


Sweet Talk 101

by Alsike



Category: Criminal Minds, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bets, Caning, F/F, Fingerfucking, Masturbation, Photography, Porn Video, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Strap-Ons, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-16 10:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alsike/pseuds/Alsike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Frost doesn't like to lose. But the new girl, Emily Prentiss, might be a little more difficult to win over than she expected. With a bet with Sebastian putting her ass on the line, literally, Emma will pull out all the stops to get what she wants, visual evidence included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One of the main tropes of the teen movie is the story of the Bet. (She's All That, Cruel Intentions, 10 Things I Hate About You.) I hate this story. I have always hated this story. You just sit there and wait for the horrible cringeworthy moment where the duplicity is revealed, and then the guy grovels, and most of the time I'm like, 'Dude! What are you thinking! He's an ass! Don't forgive him!" So the other day, I was reading a version of this traditional tale, and got to the terms of the bet (sex), and finished the terms of the bet (proof of sexing), and then frowned. "But," I thought, "She didn't say she wasn't allowed to just rape her. Honestly, you'd never get away with that if it were Emma." And then I wrote an incredibly pornographic teen movie. I'm sorry.
> 
> And thanks to Cute is What We Aim For for the theme music. ;)

_In every circle of friends there's a whore_

_The one who flirts and does a little more_

_But who's to say,_

_This is a social scene anyway?_

_And everybody wants to explore the new girl_

_Caught up in her own hard liquor world_

Emma Frost was waiting.  She was waiting for a lot of things, for high school to be over, her parents to leave her alone, her life to be less than tedious and predictable.  Unfortunately, being barely three weeks in to Junior year, she had a long time left to wait.  She yawned, and scanned the lunchroom with a lazy gaze.

“Bored, Emma?”

It was Sebastian sliding into the seat beside her, where he always sat.  Their table was the best one in the lunchroom, on the stage near the window, and there was no one who would dare to try and take it from them.

“Incredibly.”

She looked at him, the sly glint in his eyes, his dark hair, worn just a little longer than regulation, brushing against the collar of his uniform jacket.  He was handsome, and knew it, but looks didn’t keep.  Even now Emma could tell the tale-tell signs of thinning hair, and he’d be battling a receding hairline before he turned twenty-five.  His hand settled on her thigh, sliding up under her skirt.

“I think I can fix that.”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Unlikely.”  She was looking for something _new_.  There was absolutely _nothing_ about fucking Sebastian that she hadn’t done before.  Well, except for one thing, and she wasn’t bending on that.

“Let me _try_ ,” Seb whined, fingers moving into the heat of her inner thigh.  Emma jerked away from him.

“Cut it out, dickhead.”

He grinned, turning back to his plate.  “Well, if you really don’t want to hear my suggestion…”

He sounded way too pleased with himself.  Emma glowered in his direction.  “A suggestion that doesn’t have anything to do with fucking my ass?”

“I thought you might be interested in a wager.”

Emma blinked.  That… could be interesting.

In some ways, Emma and Sebastian were a bit more like siblings than lovers: competitive, childish, needlessly cruel.  Occasionally, Emma wondered if it was the sex that made their relationship just a little more tolerable than the ones she had with her siblings.  She had contemplated in an idle moment or two, if those relationships could be improved by the same means.  Fucking her sister Adrienne, preferably gagged and tied to the bed, would undoubtedly be cathartic.  It might even give them a mutually beneficial way to express their endless mutual hatred.  Or someone would die of not-so-erotic asphyxiation.  It was probably better not to risk it.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, you know how I’m always happy to provide you with anyone you might want to fuck?”

Emma thought that was probably overstating the case.  Once she had told him, ‘you know, I think I want to fuck a girl,’ and he had procured one for her.  The rest of the time he just brought her people he thought she’d look good fucking.  The bald guy with the tattoos had been creepy, but the redhead chick that summer had been hot.

“And although of course I will continue to do so, I’m worried that I’m keeping you from developing the skills necessary to find people on your own.”

“Are you saying that you think I can’t seduce someone?”  She had snagged him, hadn’t she?  She knew her sister’s clique was the powerful one, and she had watched it as a freshman, and decided that Sebastian was one of the most likely to rise to the top.  Then she had taken him.  It hadn’t been difficult.  She had been fifteen and a Frost, and he had been a teenage boy with ambition.  And she had made him wait four months before letting him fuck her.

Sebastian waved his hand casually.  “Oh, I’m pretty sure you could get any boy in this school to fuck you.  It won’t be interesting without a challenge.”

“A girl then?”  Sebastian grinned lewdly.  “I’m not fucking a straight girl.  They’re _boring_.  Virgins too.  I’m not teaching anyone anything.  It’s like running a fucking kindergarten.

 “What about the new girl?”

Emma followed his glance to the casual figure standing near one of the sophomore tables, long and lanky in the boys’ uniform trousers and a ponytail. 

“She’s not new anymore.”  But Emma watched her as she leaned over, putting her hand on a blonde girl’s shoulder to whisper in her ear.

Emily Prentiss had started at the school last year as a sophomore, even though she was already seventeen, with an air of mystery that had been the school’s obsession for the first three months of the year.  Apparently she had been ill, and then taken the last year off, spending it sailing around the world, getting a tan that touched her skin with a warm exotic glow, and coming to terms with her sexuality, which, as the school gossip machine had discovered and spread _everywhere_ , was bi-sexual, but generally prefers girls.

Sebastian leaned into her neck, his breath brushing against her hair and skin.  “You know everyone wants to have _that_.”

“Why do you think it would be a challenge?”

“Because she’s been here long enough to know who you _are_.  And she doesn’t do casual.”

Emma tore her gaze away from the girl’s ass and looked at him.  “How many times have you propositioned her?”

Sebastian tried to look offended.  “Only once for myself!”  She waited.  “Twice for threesomes, and three times for you.”

“You mean for filming.”

“She’s not the type you smile at and say, ‘you know, I would love to put you in one of my pool party videos.’”

Emma snorted.  That was kind of obvious.  “What are the rules?”

“I want to see you inside her.”

Emma looked at him sharply.  His gaze was steady, lecherous as always.  Sebastian _did_ love to watch.  “How?”

“Oh, any way, fingers, tongue, cock, even a turkey baster if you really want to get busy.”

“The wrong end of a rake?”

“Sounds sexy.”  He lowered his eyebrows.  “But it’s _you_ in _her_.  I’ve seen you get fucked a thousand times.  I want something new.”

“You win either way, don’t you?”

“Visual verification is just making sure you don’t _lie_.  And don’t rape her.  That’s cheating.”

“What are we playing for?”

Sebastian’s hand slid over her ass.  “How about we make it for that?”

Emma’s elbow landed hard in his side.  “So you get my anal cherry if you win, and a new video if I do.  What’s in it for me?”

“Besides banging her?”  Sebastian shrugged.  “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Anything?”

“I wouldn’t cut my own throat to please you.”  He smiled.  “But I’d cut someone else’s.”

She stared at him for a moment.  “I’ll tell you what I want when I win.”

“When?  Now, you’re getting cocky.”

*            *            *

Emily Prentiss was not a fool.  She was not a sucker.  If she had been once, she had left it behind her a long time ago, and was not looking back.  And thus, when someone as unrepentantly bitchy and sour as Emma fucking Frost smiled at you while handing you a beer, it was going in the bushes immediately.  Getting roofied, for whatever purpose, was not her idea of a good time.

Emma must have seen the look on her face as she took the beer, because the smile disappeared immediately and turned into a much more familiar scowl.  “I didn’t drug it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she snapped.

“Did someone _else?_ ”

Emma reached out and jerked the beer out of her hand and replaced it with her own.

Emily eyed it, and then looked back at Emma.  “Are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet, or his enemy’s?”

Emma’s eyes narrowed.  “Are you being nerdy at me?”

“Is that a problem?”  Emily took a sip, grinning at the taste.  It was much better quality than the usual cats’ piss they served at these kind of parties.  She hadn’t intended on giving it away.  She raised her cup in a mimed toast.  “Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.”

Emma continued to glower.  “Do I just wait for you to keel over dead now?”

“From delicious chocolaty dark beer?”

Emma cocked her head, giving her an intent look, and then straightened up, lifting her chest, putting the smile back on.  “Do you like bodyshots?”

“Depends on the body.”  Emily patted her shoulder and enjoyed watching her flinch.  “Look, it’s been… uh, nice to have you hit on me.  But I should probably go find my girlfriend right now.”  She turned away, glancing back to see Emma’s expression contort into a scowl.  “And a word of advice?  When you’re hitting on girls, try not to make it so obvious that you’re faking being nice.  Guys don’t usually care one way or another, but girls prefer the wrapping to match the contents.”

“You should know, since you spread your legs for both,” Emma snapped.

“One at a time, darling,” Emily replied, still smiling, but letting it get a little meaner.  “Just one at a time.”

*            *            *

JJ didn’t drink at parties.  Unlike half of the kids at this school, she still lived at home, and unlike the other half, her parents still cared about her, and if she ever showed up past curfew drunk and stinking of liquor and smoke, she didn’t even want to imagine what her ex-marine father would do.  She didn’t have to imagine actually, since her older sister had come home drunk and stoned on a regular basis, and she had been woken up by the shouting.

But it wasn’t like she was a good girl.  She had her secrets.

Emily’s mouth was hot on her neck, her fingers sliding up under her shirt to cup her breasts through her bra, thumb rubbing purposefully over her nipple.  JJ had kissed boys.  She had let some of them get to second base.  But not a single one had ever treated second base like a bargaining position, or a control panel, where with the right series of commands, a skilled player could get her to spread her legs without a single murmur of complaint.

With a tiny snick of metal, JJ felt her bra slacken, and get pushed out of the way.  Emily shifted her weight on top of her, and then was kissing her again, her tongue snaking in with just a little too much eagerness, her fingertips brushing bare skin, and JJ’s nipples pricked up, hard and demanding attention, and swiftly, Emily hiked up her shirt, broke the kiss, and ducked down, tongue curling roughly and eagerly around it, her fingers working the other one, quickly, and just a little too lightly.  And JJ made a sound more like a squeal than a moan and canted her hips up, desperately wanting to hump against her leg.  And then she jerked back.

“No!”  She pushed Emily off of her, jerking her shirt down, and curling her arms around her.  She felt herself soaking her underwear, and huddled tighter.  “Why do you always get me worked up like that?” she asked, pathetically.

Emily was sitting back on her heels and grinning at her in that slightly pitying way she always did when JJ had had enough.  It wasn’t as if she had really had enough, and Emily knew it, but it was scary, having someone else so totally in control of her reactions, and she wasn’t going to give it up in the backseat of a car, thank you very much.

“You don't have to deny yourself all the time,” Emily said, her voice silky.  She patted her thigh.  “Just grind yourself off.  It’s not even sex.”

JJ shook her head.  “Not here.” 

Parked behind Derek’s house with a hundred people ready to peek through the window was not where she wanted to lose it.  And her mouth twisted at Emily’s words.  She was just a little too casual about saying stuff like that.  It was always a heavy reminder that she was _eighteen_ , and that whatever she had done in the time she hadn’t been in school, she wasn’t telling.  JJ had asked, and Emily had smiled and shown her photos of India and Malaysia and Japan, and had kept her lips sealed about anything but the most teasing, ‘you have to fall in love a few times, or you won’t be able to handle it when it’s for real.’

“Come back to my apartment?”

JJ checked her watch and then shook her head. “It’s almost curfew.”

“You could call and tell them you’re sleeping over.”

JJ looked at her steadily.  “I can’t do that.  You know why.  I don’t tell my parents everything, but if I do tell them, I won’t let them think I abused their trust.”

Emily’s eyes changed, like they always did when she said something like that, and she nodded slowly.  “Of course,” she said.

And that was why JJ was taking a risk and dating her, eighteen, and female, and too mysterious for her own good, because when she said she didn’t want to lie to her parents, she didn't laugh.  She _understood_.  And Emily didn’t even live with her parents anymore.  They lived in Boston, and she had her own apartment near the school.  It was one of the reasons JJ had accepted her offer in the first place, because it was so clear she was lonely.

Emily sighed and leaned back against the seat.  “You know I’d never do anything to push you into it, into anything you’re not ready for.  But it would be easier if you…”

“I _can’t_ tell them.  I can’t let it get back to them either.  They’d never let me out of the house again.”  JJ pouted.  “And you’re eighteen.  My dad prosecutes statutory rape cases _all the time_.”

If Emily had been drinking she would have snorted it out her nose.  “Oh way to kill the mood!”

“There was no mood!  You asked me why I won’t come out to my parents.  Stone dead, Emily!”

Emily shook her head.  “If I could hang out with you at school, we wouldn’t need to spend so much time making out in the backseat of cars.  You know I’m not interested in casual, and you know I’m not in it for sex.  If I wanted to fuck someone and never speak to them at school, I have options.  I’m pretty sure Emma Frost was going to proposition me tonight, if I hadn’t shot her down preemptively.”

JJ stiffened.  “If you even go _near_ that whore, this is so over.”

“That’s rich, coming from you!  You keep me at arms length all day, crawl in my lap at night, and then prude out before I get any satisfaction.  At least I’d get off with her!  And I wouldn’t be being jerked around by a fucking _tease_.”

That was going way too far.  “You’d just have HIV.”

Emily rolled her eyes and glared.  “I don’t _want_ her.  That wasn’t the point.  I want you.  But maybe you’re too young to be serious.  It’s okay.  I get that.”

“I’m not too _young_ ,” JJ spat, her eyes burning.  She hated it when Emily played that card.  It wasn’t her fault what year she was born.  And of _course_ she wanted serious.  She knew a lot of people wanted Emily because she was cool, and different, and older.  But those _weren’t_ her reasons.  “And maybe you don’t even know what serious is, if you talk so casually about how you could have cheated on me if you wanted to.”

“It’s not me cheating on you that you need to worry about.”

“Is that a threat?”  JJ stuck out her chin  “It’s not my fault if you can’t keep your hands to yourself while we’re kissing.  It’s not like I get any satisfaction out of it either, and it’s not like I want it less just because I haven’t spent a year sleeping my way around the world.”

Emily sagged, looking down into her lap.  “Maybe you’re right.  Maybe I am being hypocritical.  I keep telling you I don’t want to push you into anything, and then I push, push, push, just because I want to spend more time with you.”

JJ blinked quickly a few times.  She hated when Emily looked lonely like that.  “I want to spend more time with you too,” she said, crawling carefully into her lap and leaning in to kiss her.  “Just, _not yet_.”

*            *            *

“I thought you were going to see your _girlfriend_.”

Emily was sitting on the couch in Derek’s basement, drink in hand, and staring blankly into the distance.  Emma stood by the arm, looking down at her, waiting for her to look up, acknowledge her.

“I did.  Had to bring her home.  Curfew.”

“And yet you came back.”  Emma perched on the arm.

Emily shrugged, her eyes, hard and still distant, flickering over her, and then returning to the nothing that seemed as distracting as a television.  “Didn’t feel like going home.”

“I didn’t know you were dating that soccer-playing freshman.”

“Sophomore,” Emily corrected, and then gave her a sharp look, raising an eyebrow.  “Don’t tell me you would have backed off if you did.”

Emma snorted.  “Of course not.  It doesn’t count anyways.  You’re not getting anything from her.  She’s got virgin written all over her.”

“Like you’ve got slut?”

Emma’s hand shot to her forehead.  “Oh, shit.  Not again!”

“Not again?” Emily was laughing now, and that was the point.

“When you have a sister like mine, you always check for Sharpie in the mornings.”  Emma shook her head.  “Thank god I don’t live at home anymore.”

“Dorm?”

“Apartment.”

Emily nodded.  “Same.”

“You’re too old for the dorms, aren’t you?  They don’t want you corrupting the minors.”

“With what?  My ability to vote?”  Emily shook her head.  “I’m too old for the dorms because _I’m_ too old for the dorms, not because they don’t want me there.”

“You’re dating a fifteen year old.”

Emily just looked at her and arched an eyebrow.  “We’re _not_ sleeping together.  Remember?”

“If you’re too old for the dorms, you’re probably too old to be dating freshmen.”

“She’s a _sophomore_.”  Emma grunted, expressing her lack of interest in irrelevant details.  “ _You’re_ a junior.  You’re, what?  Sixteen?”

“I’m legal.”

Emily stared at her.  “It’s eighteen in Massachusetts.”

Emma grinned.  “I’m legal for _you_.  It’s only eighteen if the minor is ‘of chaste life.’  That was gone a _long_ time ago.”

“It’s nice to know that sometimes the rumor mill _isn’t_ wrong.  They still call a whore a whore.”

Emma grinned, kicking off her shoes and swinging her feet into Emily’s lap, kneading like a cat.  “I don’t take cash.”

Emily jerked away, shoving her feet off.  “Did I say anything that suggested I would even _think_ about sleeping with you?”

“You didn’t say you wouldn’t.”

“I’m _not_ going to sleep with you!”  Emily jumped up off the couch and turned to yell at her.  It was irritating.  Emma stared at her blankly.

“Why not?”

“Didn’t you hear anything I said about having a _girlfriend_?”

“I’m not _asking_ to be your _girlfriend_.”  Even the word left a bad taste in Emma’s mouth.  She slid off the arm of the couch and prowled towards her.  Emily tensed, eyeing her nervously, but she didn’t move away.  “I don’t even want to _sleep_ with you.”  And then she was close enough to brush against her, and Emily _clearly_ had nice tits.  It was stupid of her to keep them covered up like that.

“No?” Emily stammered, utterly lost.

Emma grinned and bumped their hips together.  She curled her hand around her face.  “I just want to fuck you,” she whispered, so softly that Emily leaned in to try to hear better, and Emma took the opportunity to kiss her.

Emma didn’t kiss nice, and Emily tried to fight her off, but Emma had a good grip on her hair, and with a quick shove at the right moment, she had her pinned against the wall.  And then Emily kissed back, her hands closing on Emma’s ass, lifting her up just a little, and she kissed to win.  When Emma’s lips parted she pushed in, fucking her tongue into her mouth.  She dug her nails into Emma’s shoulders and raked them down her back.  Their teeth clashed, Emma moaned into her mouth, and she bit, hard, into her lower lip, and when Emma hissed and pulled back, she shoved her off.  Emily wiped her mouth off on her sleeve.

“I know you’re just messing with me,” she said flatly, shoulders up, fists clenched defensively.  “Tell me.  Is it a bet, or a dare?”

Emma frowned, rubbing her thumb over the bite mark on her lip, checking to see if it was bleeding, and eyeing her coolly.  Emily Prentiss was _not_ what she had expected.  “It’s a bet,” she replied, eventually.  Sebastian never said she had to lie about it.  Tough shit was a good look on that girl.  “And I’m not going to lose it.”

“I really think you are.”

*            *            *

And this was one of the reasons Emily hadn’t wanted to go back to high school.  People in high school were _stupid_.

“You made a bet.  About _me?_   Or was I just the first lesbian to cross your line of vision?”

“Oh no.  It was about you.”  Emma smiled in that way that made it look like she was purring.  “It was probably a better choice than even we knew.  You’re kind of an… unknown quantity.  Secret history, secret girlfriend, secret talent for… domination.”

Emily tried not to let her cringe show on her face.  Letting Emma find out about JJ was probably the second (third?) stupidest thing she had ever done, and she had done her best to play it off like it wasn’t a secret, but apparently Emma hadn’t been fooled.

“And the bet is to what?  Sleep with me, or humiliate me utterly?”

“To fuck you.”

“And is there anyone else competing with you?  Do I have to watch out for six guys too?”

Emma snorted.  “Would that make you _more_ worried?”

“You’re quite enough.”  Emily sighed.  “Your plan was, what?  Roofie me and tie me up?”

“I didn’t drug the beer!”  Emma snapped.  “Sebastian _said_ I couldn’t rape you, and I would be fucking humiliated to have to drug you to get you to sleep with me.”

“Oh good,” replied Emily, completely disgusted with the whole situation.  “I’m glad that raping me doesn’t count to win the bet.”

“It _kind_ of misses the point.”

“Doesn’t _telling_ me miss the point?”

“I don’t need to lie to you to get to fuck you.”

“You need a _lot_ more than you have right now.”

Emily turned and stormed up the stairs out of Derek’s basement and into the fresh fall night.  She did not need this.  Her life was fucked up enough without being the butt of a teen-movie-style _joke_.

*            *            *


	2. Chapter 2

_The arch in your eyebrows_

_Can tell the truth_

_Just imagine what your back could do_

_And the dance floor where I do my best_

_Is your, your mattress_

 

“The party didn’t go well?”

Sebastian looked solicitous and like a complete dick.  Emma glared at him, slamming shut the notebook containing the materials for her next sally.

“It went fine.  I’ll wear her down.”

Sebastian shook his head.  “This bet doesn’t run _forever_.  I’m not going to wait around for you to grow the balls to take her.  You have two weeks.”

“Two weeks?”

Sebastian pointed to the clock.  “Noon.  Monday, October Twenty-Third.  If I don’t have proof in my hand by the time that minute hand hits the twelve, you _lose_.  And when I fuck you, you _know_ where, I’m going to make sure I can watch you scream as many times as I want.”

Emma swallowed hard.  Sebastian rose, abandoning his plate, and left the lunchroom.  Emma’s eyes scanned the crowd to see her target.  She was seated, mixed in with her friends, and talking and laughing as if she had totally forgotten that she had been marked, as if it didn’t even matter to her.  Emma’s mouth twisted and her eyes found the soccer-playing freshman, at a different table, looking shy as she was being teased, about a boy probably.  Emma smiled tightly.  If her friends only knew what _she_ did.

*            *            *

“Jay!” Emily reached out to give her the one hug she was allowed in school, but Jennifer jerked out of her embrace.

“Don’t- don’t touch me!”

“What?”  Emily stared at her girlfriend, taking in the pale face, her lips quivering as if she were about to be sick, or faint, and she didn’t understand.

“How could you?”

Fear started to creep up her limbs, and Emily swallowed.  She opened her mouth, not sure what to ask.  JJ didn’t let her decide, shoving a small stack of photographs into her hands.  And Emily knew what she was going to see.

“Look, I didn’t-“

She paused, distracted by the image of herself talking to Emma, her head cocked, smiling slightly, as if she were flirting.  She grimaced.  She really hadn’t been.  The second one was bad, Emma catching her face and looking up to kiss her.  The third was just her being kissed, but the fourth was a close up of her hands sinking into the flesh of Emma’s ass, and the fifth was her teeth on Emma’s lip.

“I had to get her _off_ of me.  I really didn’t-“

“I don’t _care_ about those!” JJ snapped.  “You being a fucking slut is none of my business.”  Emily started.  None of her _business_?  “ _This_ is my business!”

There was another stack of photos.  God this girl didn’t mess around.  And who had been taking the pictures?  Had she bugged the room?  Had she choreographed it, and then edited on her computer, or what?

These ones weren’t of Derek’s basement though.  They were through the window of the car behind Derek’s house.  Re-colored night vision photographs.  How could she be so _good at this_?  And they were close up enough to make it really obvious that it was them.  The first three were tight enough to their faces to make their identities unquestionable.  By the time you turned tothe close up showing JJ’s breasts, her shirt hiked up, her head tipped back, Emily just moving down to take one in her mouth, you didn’t have to see their faces. 

Emily breathed in slowly through her nose.  They were kind of hot.  And she was going to kill that bitch.

 “I didn’t-“

“If I even thought that you’d _consider_ sleeping with her, I’d never go within ten feet of you again.  But she _knows_!  She’ll tell my parents!  And _that_ picture is not the way I wanted them to find out!”

Her voice was rising into hysteria, and Emily couldn’t blame her for it.

 “JJ, please, just relax.  She’s just threatening me.  I’ve got it under control.  It’s a bet.  It’s going to pass.”

Jennifer stared at her.  “You still don’t get it, do you?  She’s a _Frost_.  They don’t _make_ threats; they make promises.  She will do whatever she has to do to get what she wants, and she _will_ tell my parents.  What does she want from you?”

Emily cringed.  “She wants to sleep with me.”

JJ just looked tired.  “Then do it.  This is over.  If you got her attention, it’s not safe to be around you.”

That was… strange.  “Would it really be that bad if your parents knew?”

“You-“  Her voice caught in her throat.  “Have you ever listened to a word I’ve said?  You don’t understand me at _all_.  This is way overdue, and probably too late, but I’m dumping you.  Please don’t ever speak to me again.”  JJ pressed her lips tightly together and looked at her one more time.  “If you don’t deal with this, I’m blaming you.  If my father wants to press charges, I won’t stop him.”

Emily gaped after her as she strode down the hall, leaving her behind, utterly bewildered, and too shocked to realize she ought to be sad.

*            *            *

“What the hell is _this_?”

Emily was hanging over the side of her locker, holding a fistful of photos, and looking thoroughly irritated.  Emma stepped back, closing her locker, and raised an eyebrow.  She didn’t want irritated.  She wanted scared.  “Collateral.”

“Leave JJ out of this!”

“You brought her into it.  You were the one who said, oh no, I can’t fuck you, I have to be faithful to my _girlfriend._ ”

Emily pursed her lips.  “And you think blackmail will make you _more_ attractive?”

“It’s not blackmail.”

Emily blinked.  “Huh?”

“I’m making sure you’re single.”

“I don’t-“  And then she got it.  Her face changed.  That was the fear she was looking for.  Emma smiled.  Emily’s mouth parted in shock.  “It wasn’t a threat.”

“Frosts don’t make threats.  Sometimes they give warnings.  Has your pretty girl gone home already?”

“She already dumped me!  You didn’t have to-“  But Emma was grinning, and she finally noticed.  “You _didn’t_ have to.  Why did you?.”

“Because it’s _fun_.”

*            *            *

JJ stormed down the hallway, pale and icily furious.  Emily turned, opening her mouth to ask, but before she could, JJ blew up.

“I’m grounded for _life_!  They’re talking about making me change schools.  This is All Your Fault.”

What was she supposed to say to that?  Emily raised her hands helplessly, giving a sidelong glance to the people frozen and watching.  “You’re not dead,” she tried.

Face expressionless, JJ reached out and snagged a transfixed football player’s Big Gulp and emptied it out over Emily’s head.  It was mostly ice.  Most of the ice went down her shirt.

“I hate you.”

“I- I see that.

JJ stormed off.

Emily, dripping, turned slowly in the puddle pooling around her feet, meeting a hundred amused intent eyes.  Emma was standing a few yards away, giggling.  Still slowly, and squelching with each step, she approached her.

Emma grinned at her.  “Well, apparently once her parents were taken care of, she’s totally fine with outing herself to the school.  Don’t worry.”  She tipped her head, hair falling coquettishly in her face.  “I’m sure you can get her back.”

Emily slapped her.  The palm of her hand connected with Emma’s cheek as hard and fast as a club.  Emma reeled and curled over herself, cupping her aching face.  She was still giggling.

*            *            *

“I see it’s going well,” said Sebastian, leaning on the edge of the sink.  Emma glared at him, pushing concealer around on her slowly bruising face.

“Don’t worry.  I’ll have her.”  Eyeing her handiwork, she snapped her compact shut.  “It’s all going according to plan.”

The next part of the plan involved spreading the rumor that the incident in the hallway had been JJ dumping Emily, possibly for giving her a VD, and now that Emily was free, she was on the prowl and looking for a threesome.

The party that Friday was going to be excellent.

*            *            *

Emily wished that she were dead.  The only reason she was at the party at Bobby’s was to get drunk and be left alone.  But everyone kept hitting on her.

Frustrated and angry, she broke into Bobby’s parents’ liquor cabinet and snagged the Jack Daniels Black Label.  It was good, and quickly, it was half gone.

“Aren’t you going to share?”

Emily turned around to face Emma, leaning against the leather chair in the den, an amused sadistic smile on her face.

“This is all you, isn’t it?”

Emma considered.  “I _hope_ so.”  She sauntered forward, tracing a finger down Emily’s throat and catching it in her collar.  She tugged slightly.  Emily was a statue of burning frustration.  “I would hate it if it was someone else making you feel this awful.”

“What the hell are you _thinking_?  Do you really think that screwing me over and hurting the people I care about is going to make me like you?”

“I don’t want you to like me.”  Emma smiled cruelly.  “I want you to hate me.”  Her hand moved down to cup Emily’s breast.  “It’s so much easier to fuck someone you hate.”

“Get it through your head.  I am _never_ going to fuck you.”

Emma groped her roughly, stepping tight into her, slamming their hips together, pressing so close that when she spoke, their lips brushed.  “Prove it.”

This time, when Emily hit her, it was with a closed fist.  Emma staggered back, bent over, but quickly recovered.  And when she could breathe, she laughed.  “You think that’s proving you _won’t_ lose control around me?”  She moved closer, sneering.  “My anorexic little sister hits harder than you.”

Emily’s fingernails bit into her palms.  She shouldn’t have hit her, she knew that, but the alcohol was making it really hard to think right now.  “I’d rather fuck a crocodile than touch you.”

“Oh, be honest.”  Emma narrowed her eyes.  “Tell me you don’t want to shove me against the wall right now.  Tell me you don’t want me at your mercy.”

“Oh I want to.  I want to choke you, keep your dirty mouth shut until you’re _dead_.”

“That’s hot.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“The word’s sociopath, darling.  But I’m not saying you’re wrong.”

Emily breathed in deeply through her nose.  She needed to stay in control.  Emma wanted her angry, wanted her to do something she’d regret.  She straightened, shaking her head to try and clear it.  “Look.  I just wanted to be left alone tonight.  If everyone’s going to be bothering me, I can just go home.  I can get drunk as well there as anywhere.”

Emma stiffened, frowning suddenly.  “Why are you being reasonable all of a sudden?”

“I’m not going to fight with you.  Accepting that bet was your stupid mistake.  It doesn’t have anything to do with me, and I’m not going to let you goad me into winning it for you.”

“You’re not making me lose this bet!”

Emily grinned.  And she had her plan for revenge bright and clear in front of her.  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Emma strode toward her and shoved her up against the wall.  “You’re _not_.”

“Get _away_ from me!” Emily snapped, struggling to fight her off.  But Emma had caught her wrists and pinned them, using all her weight to keep them down.

“You’re such a bitch!”  Emma snarled into her face.  “You just want me to lose to spite me.  And all your shit about being too good for sex.  You’re just frigid.  I bet if I put my fingers between your legs right now it would be ice cold there.”

It wasn’t true.  Emma’s hips were grinding against hers, and Emily couldn’t steady her breathing.  She knew she was wet.

“You’re drunk.  And Sebastian told you that it didn’t count if you raped me.”

Emma cursed and jerked away from her.  “Fuck you!”

“You wish!”

“Yeah, I do.”  Emma’s scowl got desperate for a moment.  “I want to fuck you.  I want to leave bruises on your tits, and bend you over something, and bite your neck and make you bleed, and you’d love it.  You’d love every second of it.  Go home to your vibrator, and wish you had me instead.”

That was when they heard the sirens.

*            *            *

The police had actually been smart when setting up the raid on Bobby’s party.  All the exits were blocked.  Emma bolted, and it looked like she knew where she was going, so Emily followed.  They tore past the frantic sound of flushing as the baggies of weed kept floating back to the top of the bowl.  Mouthwash was poured after liquor to get rid of the smell, and the scent of vinegar after beer made Emily gag.  Then Emma ducked into what looked like a closet.

“Where are you going?”

Emma glanced back, hardly registering her pursuer.  “Help me with the window.”

It was a closet, but it had a small window, just large enough for a person to crawl through, and it opened right over the roof of a small shed.  Together they jerked the window up in its frame, and Emily gave Emma a boost through, and then followed, tumbling with a heavy thud onto the roof.

“Shh!”  Emma hissed at her, and beckoned.  Emily scrambled to the ground, and followed her into the bushes on hands and knees.  Emma crawling in a short skirt in front of her was kind of distracting, but the shouts and swearing from the house behind kept jerking her attention away.

The bushes led into the woods, and Emma pushed up onto her feet and started moving faster.  She broke into a run, and Emily, scrambling up, ran after her.  They pounded through the forest, tripping on roots, and scratched by brambles, until Emma suddenly stopped, and Emily, not noticing, ran into her, and knocked them both down into a small grassy ravine.

Emily lay in the grass, huffing for breath, and listening.  She could hear the sirens faintly, but some seemed to be moving away.

“Where the fuck are we?”

Emma groaned, rubbing her shoulder.  “You’re a fucking klutz, you know.”

“And you’re a ho.  What of it?”

Emma sat up, brushing grass out of her hair.  “This drainage ditch runs behind Bobby’s house.  When the police are gone we can just follow it back to get our cars.”  Then she flopped onto her back, stretching absently, and closed her eyes as if she were going to just go to sleep.

Emily sat up and frowned.  “You’re not going to try to proposition me again?”

“Feeling unloved?” Emma drawled, eyes still closed.

Emily rolled her eyes.  “It seems like as decent an opportunity as any.”

“Well, you’d be wrong.”  Emma glanced at her, eyes narrow and amused.  “I left my camera in the Drakes’ living room.  No point in trying to fuck you when I don’t have evidence.  If we slept together now, it would just be sex, no bet involved.”  Emily frowned.  Emma propped her chin up on her elbow.  “Or would you be into that?  You just want me to lose the bet.  Just sex would be fine, right?”

“You have a camera.”

Emma grinned.  “It’s the sweetest little thing you’ve ever seen.  High def.  Three lenses, none more than an inch square, and all of them record to this.”  She pulled out a flat black object about the size of a cassette tape.  “Bluetooth.”

She flipped it over, and there was a screen on the back.  Tapping her fingers across the screen, it lit up, and then she showed it to Emily.  It was a film of them kissing at Derek’s party.  She poked it again twice and then it was a night-vision recording of her last make-out session with JJ.

“I’ve seen all those.”

Emma grinned, then considered her machine.  She pressed through the menu and tilted it back.  It was the inside of Principal Strauss’ office.  The head guidance counselor, Mr. Hotchner was there with her.  They were speaking quietly.

“The sound’s only so-so.”

Then Mr. Hotchner got up to go, and Principal Strauss called him back, just for a moment, and there was _kissing_.

“Oh my god.”

Emma laughed.  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?  I can get so much dirt with this.”  She stretched out on the grass, rolling her shoulders, careless of how her skirt hiked up, and Emily stared at her in the dim moonlight.

“I hate you, you know,” she said.

Emma blinked at her and smiled lazily.  “I know.”

“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“Stop flattering me.”

Emily shook her head.  That was it, wasn’t it?  She was just… unrepentant.  “Shut up,” she growled softly, crawled across the grass, and leaned down to kiss her.  Emma tipped her head back, lips parting as she opened to her, her tongue rising up to meet Emily’s, and Emily kissed her harder, pinning her shoulders to the dirt, and pushing into her mouth, licking her palate, and doing her best to fuck all the way into her throat.

Emma shoved her off when she needed to breathe and propped her self up on her elbows.  She watched Emily with a narrow, appraising gaze.  “So you _are_ okay with sex, as long as I don’t get to win the bet.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You kind of didn’t have to.  Your tongue said it for you.”

Emily rolled her eyes, sitting back against a tree and crossing her arms.  “I know what you mean, about fucking someone because you hate them, but I’m not that kind of person.”

“What are you saying?  That you _like_ me?”  She scooched close to her until their sides were touching.  “You’re kind of fucking hot, you know.  You sure about not letting me win the bet?  I really don’t want to give Seb my anal cherry.”

Emily jerked back, disgusted.  “That’s what you’re betting?”

“He wants the full set.  You wanted to punish me.  Now you know what the punishment is.”  Her smile was sly.  “Are you sure _you_ don’t want to get the enjoyment yourself?  Vicarious just isn’t the same, although I could probably get you a video if you wanted to watch.”

Emily scowled at her, her mouth curling.  “If I were a guy I’d make you blow me and come on your face.”

Emma grinned.  “If you were a guy I’d let you.  I can still suck on you.”  She moved to support herself over Emily’s legs, then leaned down until Emily could feel her breath on her stomach.  “I’ll rub my face into you until it’s covered in your smut.  I’ll make you come so hard you won’t know what hit you.”

Emily swallowed tightly and forced her hips not to move.  “Still not letting you win.”

“I’ll let you cane me.”

Emily stared.  “What?”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re a vanilla girl.  I knew better than that when you dragged your nails down my back.”

“You’d let me whip you?”  That was a lot farther than she had expected Emma to let _anyone_ go.

“It’s not fucking.  I wouldn’t even win.”  Emma’s eyes grew shifty.  “You know, the bet is technically that _you_ let _me_ fuck you.  I have to get into your pussy, fingers, tongue or strap on.  It doesn’t count if you fuck me.  You know what would be awesome?”

Emily stared at her, suddenly very aware that she was drunk and that that was dangerous around Emma.  “If you caned me and then fucked me through the mattress.  You’d like that, right?  Grabbing my welted ass and forcing a big hard cock in me.  I love hard ones, none of that jelly shit.  If I want something flaccid I’ll fuck a real boy.”

“And you wouldn’t win?”

“Nope.  Not until you spread your legs for me.”

Emily’s breath was ragged, and she wished the images would leave her alone, but Emma’s skirt was tight and already hiked up so high that it was barely a feat of imagination to imagine what she would look like with her legs spread, on her stomach, thighs and ass marked and burning.

“I-  Tomorrow.”  Emma blinked at her, looking stunned.  “Ask me again tomorrow, when I’m sober.  I can’t- I can’t think like this.”

Emma let a lazy grin spread over her face.  “Drunk?  Or horny?  Come on, I promise I won’t touch.  Let me watch.”

Emily’s eyes widened.  “What?’

“I don’t believe in self-denial.  Get yourself off.  I want to see your fingers between your legs.”  Emma sat up and pulled off her already mussed shirt.  She tugged her bra off as well and then, as she leaned back against the nearest tree, spread her knees, her skirt sliding up even higher, exposing pale white lacy underwear.  “Touch yourself.”

“You-”

Emma cupped her own breast and teased the nipple.  “Do it.  I want to see you come.”

She was just going to sit like that, wasn’t she?  More than half naked, fondling her own breasts, high and tight with small pink nipples.  Her legs were spread so wide, and maybe it was just a shadow, but Emily’s eyes, fixed to her crotch, would swear that the cloth was darkening with wetness.  And she was _aching_.

Emily shuffled a little, moving to sit against a tree.  Her hand moved shakily towards her groin, stroking herself lightly through the fabric of her jeans. 

“Pants off,” Emma ordered, pinching a little harder at her own nipple, and biting on her lower lip to contain her response. 

Emily slowly unfastened her jeans and shuffled them down.  She took the underwear with them.  Modesty was really not an issue here.  They ended up around her ankles, flopping over the tops of her combat boots.  Emma’s eyes seemed to glow with eagerness and her gaze settled on the nest of dark curls between her legs.  Emily parted her knees, just slightly, enough to slide her fingers between them, and she flinched at how tender and wet she was.  This would be hard to do with just fingers.  She needed her vibrator, or, she glanced up at Emma’s intent face, someone’s tongue.  But the gaze alone was making her clit throb, and she let her knees fall apart a little more, letting Emma watch her fingers moving over her clit.

Emma gave a little moan, and Emily looked up, forgetting about her own fingers when she saw that look on Emma’s face.  She was desperately aroused, underwear shoved down, her fingers in her own pussy, moving fast and shallow, her legs tensed, half bent into her knees, and Emily’s motions sped to mirror it.  She couldn’t believe how desperately she wanted to move over to her, slide wetly down her thigh, and let Emma stab three long spike-nailed fingers into her.  She’d fuck herself on them, so hard, bury her own hand in Emma’s cunt, and grind into her, fuck her hand until one of them broke from it.  And at the thought, Emily came.

A second later, Emma lunged, catching her wrist and pulling it up.  Emily gave a whimper of protest, wanting to ride it out, and then a louder whimper as Emma’s lips and tongue wrapped around her fingers.  Emma sucked on them and groaned a little, her fingers still working between her own legs.  “You taste so fucking good,” she hissed, and her hips shuddered as she came.

*            *            *


	3. Chapter 3

_You have a jump in your step_

_But a rip in your,_

_A rip in your rep_

_And everybody knows it_

_So be sure to be proud_

_And don't forget you aren't allowed to brag_

“I am so close to winning this bet,” Emma said, grinning evilly at Sebastian.

“Oh really?”

“She spread her legs for me last night, but I didn’t touch.  I just let her _show_ me.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow.  “Sounds sort of juvenile to me.”

Emma snorted.  “She didn’t just show me her girl-parts.  I got to see her come.”

“You’ve got proof?”  He grinned.  “Remember.  I want visual verification.”

Emma waved him away.  “We were outside. But tonight- tonight is going to be awesome.”

*            *            *

Emily hadn’t realized she was stupid, but it was really becoming more and more apparent.  Had she really told Emma to ask her ‘tomorrow’ whether she wanted to have sex?  That was seriously not maintaining a strong defense.

She needed a way to make sure Emma couldn’t find her.  She had a friend who lived nearby, studying at Harvard, and she drove to Cambridge to see him.  Spencer, still in his pajamas at one PM greeted her with a pleased hug.  They ordered pizza for lunch and spent the afternoon lounging on the couch and watching Stargate.

At 8 PM her cell phone rang, and forgetting that she was supposed to be careful, Emily picked it up.

“How did you get this number?”

“You _know_ I’m stalking you.  Why are you surprised?”

Emily sighed.  “I really don’t know.”

“This is my address,” Emma said, and Emily’s phone beeped as a text message came though.  “Come over.  I’m…”  She heard, rather than saw the smile.  “I’m ready for you.”

Spencer looked at her, eyes worried.  “Was that _her_?”

“Yeah.”  Emily closed the phone and looked at it. 

“Why didn’t you tell her no?”

Emily thought she ought to be wondering that herself.  But she wasn’t.  What had happened that night had been confusing as hell, but it had been exhilarating too.  Running from the police was definitely part of it, right on the heels of a spitting hissing fight, and Emma’s dirty mouth had whispered so many things in her ear.  And then she had kissed her, god knew why, and it hadn’t been anything like she thought it would be, no aggression, no battle for dominance, no attempt to force her into something she didn’t want and wasn’t ready for.

 “To be honest?” She looked up, sliding her fingers into her hair.  “She lets me be in control.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow.  “Didn’t you say this was the girl who’s been trying to pressure you into sex, using blackmail, and gossip, and possibly drugs, for over a week?”

“I kind of did something I shouldn’t have last night.”  But the thought of it made her smile.  They hadn’t talked afterwards.  When they were recovered enough, the sirens had gone, and they dressed, and made their way down the ditch to grab their cars.  Emma had groped her ass before they split up, and that had been it.  “I know you’d think she’d be trying to push me around, or top me, but I touch her and she just… rolls over and opens up.”

“Yeah,” said Spencer, carefully.  “But how many people does she just roll over and open up _for_?”

“I’m not letting her touch me!” Emily snapped, feeling defensive.  “But I’m not a virgin, and I’m not a good girl.  And if this isn’t on my terms, I can walk away.  I’m not _invested_.”

Spencer looked conflicted.  He had liked JJ when he met her.  And maybe he thought she was rebounding.  Maybe she was.  When you get dumped you needed to find your power again, you needed to feel like it wasn’t your fault, you weren’t helpless, you were better than _her_.  And Emily knew she should feel guilty about the implosion.  She should have caught on sooner, not let it slip in the first place, cared more about what Jennifer was scared of.  But her parents would have found out sooner or later.  Emma and her bet were just the catalyst.  And maybe it was just a bet, but she couldn’t hate being _wanted_.

“Fine!  I’m rebounding!  But she’s a little bitch, and she wants me to whip her.  Do you seriously think I should pass this up?”

*            *            *

Emma never quite realized how turned on she would be to see Emily, totally normal Emily, dark jeans, an oxford shirt, black sweatshirt, holding a cane and standing over her, naked and chained to the bed.  It wasn’t like she couldn’t get out of the bonds.  They were just leather straps cut off of old belts, and buckled closed, but she’d have to focus on them, and she knew from experience that it was really hard to focus when someone was beating you with a thin bamboo rod.

“You’re really into this?”

“Put your fingers in my pussy and you’ll know how turned on I am.”

Emily frowned and knelt on the edge of the bed.  Her hand slid over the curve of Emma’s ass and slipped between her thighs.  Her fingers came back sticky.

“Oh.”  She wiped them awkwardly on her pants.

“You’re really hot with that in your hand.”

“What do you think you can manage?”

Emma shrugged, though it looked awkward and sort of idiotic with her hands chained above her head.  “I don’t know how you hit.  I did forty once, but I had to end it there because I was getting fucking bored, she couldn’t even raise a welt.  If you hit me hard… twenty?”

Emily’s cool hand caressed the small of her back.  “Twenty-five,” she said, and it wasn’t a suggestion.  Emma bit her lip and tried not to grind her hips into the mattress.

The first few were light, but she hadn’t done this for ages, and she was still a little shocked at each stroke.  Emily handled the cane well, placing the strokes carefully down her shoulders and over her ass and thighs, not crossing or overlapping, and once she had done eight strokes, and worked her way down her body, she spoke.  “That was the warm up.  Now we start.  Count them for me.”

The cane cracked down on Emma’s ass and she screamed, then gasped twice, gritting her teeth and wishing she could wipe away the tears that had squeezed from her eyes.  “One,” she managed.  The next one cut right on the juncture of her ass cheeks and thighs.  “Two.”

Each one was a vicious bite, leaving behind a raw aching burn, and Emma ground her hips into the mattress.  She didn’t even need it.  She came on ten, and sobbed on eleven.  And it just felt so much better, when the pain was real, when you knew the burn would fade and your body would heal.  It was so much better than the other kind.

Emma was limp on the bed, sobbing and broken, her ass and thighs swollen with welts, and Emily had only reached eighteen.  She reached out and touched her gently, and Emma flinched and then her face contorted in the pain.  Emily dropped the cane and went to the fridge in the corner.  There was a towel in the freezer and she pulled it out, enjoying the cold on her blistered palms.  Gently she spread it out over Emma’s ass, waiting for the cool towel to slow the blood and reduce the swelling.

“Why’d you stop?” Emma mumbled.  “’s only eighteen.”

Emily pushed her hair off her face and leaned in, brushing her lips against her cheek.  “Because you’re a stubborn little shit and you’d rather let me work you over until you need the hospital than use your safeword.”

“It’s not that bad.”  Emily squeezed her cheek and Emma let out something between a scream and a groan.

“I don’t think you’re up for a fucking tonight.”

Emma gave her an upset look.  “Are you going to go?”

Emily cupped her cheek.  “No.”

She unfastened the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, and then helped Emma shuffle a little to the side and took off her boots, then her jeans and sweatshirt.  In just the oxford and her underwear she crawled into bed with Emma and put an arm around her.  Emma curled into her shoulder, and Emily could feel the traces of her tears against her skin.  She played gently with her hair and made soothing sounds until she heard Emma’s breathing change into the soft regularity of sleep, and let herself relax and sleep as well.

*            *            *

Emily snuck out of there around dawn.  Sleeping over did not count as revenge.  Cuddling _really_ did not count as revenge!  But there were rules when you took a whip to someone, and you couldn’t break them.  You couldn’t let someone submit to you and then just walk away.

And Emma had been perfect.  Her skin, so icy pale, had been red, sometimes a vicious purple, the blood pooling right beneath the surface, when she was done.  Her body had shuddered with pleasure, and she had cried, deathly, desperately silent, and it had been all Emily could do to not crawl between her legs, and make her come until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

But that wasn’t part of the deal.  Emma would do something to make her hate her again soon.  She just had to hold on until then.

It was Sunday anyways.  She had to drive to Boston.  She had to go home.

*            *            *

Monday, Emma was still moving gingerly.  Emily saw her pausing by her locker, hand clenching the top of the metal door, pain clear on her face, and had to go over.

“You okay?”

Emma gave her a narrow look.  “I’m functional.  Walking is really not my favorite thing right now.”  She wiggled an eyebrow for emphasis.

Emily grinned.  She was teasing.  It couldn’t be _that_ bad.  “Bet sitting’s worse.”

Emma fake-slapped her cheek.  “Don’t look so smug.  I know you can’t help it being pretty on your asshole face.”

Emily laughed and as she walked away turned the opposite direction in the hallway.  She met JJ’s cold gaze.

“Sleeping with her already?”

“Jay-”

“Don’t think I care.  I’m just glad that I found out you’re such a slut before I let you in my pants.”  She whirled and stormed off.

Emily whirled the other way.  “Hey,” she said, catching Emma’s arm.  “Do you want to hang out tonight?  No… planned erotic activities, just hang?”

Emma looked at her, shock clear on her face.  “Ah-”  She started to answer, and then wrinkled her nose.  “I can’t tonight.  Family dinner on Mondays.  Tomorrow?”

It should have been a reprieve, a chance to reconsider, but Emily didn’t want to.  “Yeah, tomorrow’s fine.”  Then she smiled.  “Family dinner?  You going to be able to sit still?”

Emma grinned.  “It just means that the torture is a little more literal than usual.”

Emily laughed, shaking her head and turning to go.

“Hey,” Emma called out after her.  Emily glanced back, inquiring.  “Don’t forget.  I’m still going to fuck you.”

“Well, it’s good to know it hasn’t slipped your mind,” Emily replied, flexing her fingers together.  “I hadn’t heard you say it for nearly 48 hours.”

“I’m trying the seduction route, asshole.”

“You mean you’ve given up on the irritate me into submission method?  But I was so enjoying that!”

*            *            *

It was a Tuesday night, and Emma was waiting for it to end with something awkward about homework, or possibly and abrupt stop in front of her apartment and an ejector seat.  Because it wasn’t a date, and Emma wasn’t entirely sure how not-a-dates were supposed to end.  To be entirely truthful, she wasn’t entirely certain how _dates_ usually ended either.  When Sebastian had been involved they either ended with her shutting the door in his face and him yelling through the window about cockblocking him for a quarter of an hour afterwards, or they had ended with him passing out on the couch while she was giving him a blowjob.  When it had been the few weeks with Trevor they had usually ended with him blushing to his ears and trying to make a get away after she had seen his gentlemanly kiss at the door and then offered to raise the stakes.  Somehow, even after she had managed to drag him inside and to bed, they had still ended like that.  Emma had never quite gotten her head around the idea that a long kiss was supposed to be the _end_ of something.

But after getting coffee and spending two hours wandering around the downtown, sitting on the edges of raised flowerbeds and talking (Emma was pretty sure that this was a deliberate attempt to keep her away from any situation that could be turned into a proposition.  But if she hadn’t been making an effort, it totally wouldn’t have worked.  Emily was wearing a leather jacket to go with her combat boots, and a public flowerbed was a _perfect_ place to screw her brains out.) Emily had led her back to her car and driven out of town, pulling up outside a small wooden house with weed-growing flowerboxes lining the porch banister.  (It was a nice car, with great upholstery, and Emma really couldn’t understand why JJ hadn’t been _honored_ to lose it in the backseat.  It was definitely a step up from unwashed stinky-boy sheets.)

“Um, do you want to come up?”  Then Emily grimaced.  “To watch TV, I mean, not, I mean it’s only,” she checked her watch.  “Nine…”

“Sure.”  Emma was distracted by the apartment itself.  When they got on the porch, it became apparent that it was a duplex, and Emily led her up a narrow staircase, and into a low-ceilinged kitchen.  It looked a little rustic and old, but it had hardwood floors, and the kitchen was huge in comparison to Emma’s.  Hers was a new apartment in a semi-high rise within walking distance of the school, and whoever designed it had apparently believed that kitchens didn’t need to be any bigger than bathrooms.  And it was probably a lot more expensive than this place too.  She even had an actual living room, as big as Emma’s whole apartment.  Emma peered around curiously, peeking into the bedroom, and then looking up as Emily pulled the door shut in front of her inquisiting nose.  There was a claw foot tub, with a hilarious metal apparatus that looked like it was supposed to be a shower rigged up to it, and there were enough things left out in her kitchen to make it look like she actually used it.  That was impressive.

There were photos on the fridge, and Emma took her time perusing them, ignoring Emily’s coughs of discomfort.  There were a few of people she didn’t recognize in various exotic locales, and then some more casual family pictures.  There were two people who looked like Emily’s parents, a couple groupings with them in it, one with Emily, one with a small baby.  There were two others with the baby.  One had Emily’s mom cuddling her happily, and the other had Emily holding the child with an awkward expression on her face.

“Your little sister?” Emma asked, laughing at the expression, and glanced over at Emily.

Emily was looking over her shoulder at the pictures, and when Emma spoke her eyes moved quickly to Emma’s face, and she almost flinched.  “Um, yeah,” she said, pasting a quick fake smile on her face.

Emma frowned.  “ _Not_ your little sister?”

Emily’s eyes widened.  But what?  Adopted?  A niece?  A-

“Your… _daughter_?” Emma asked with an amused eyebrow.

*            *            *

Emily felt like she was going to throw up.   Everything rose up in her stomach and blood drained from her face, and then she realized that Emma’s expression matched hers.  She had just been guessing.  She hadn’t _known_.  But now she did.

“You’re _joking_!  Oh my _god_!”  Emma spun, slapping a hand over her mouth like she was ready to be sick.  “Oh my god,” she mumbled into her hand.  Then she looked back, her expression twisted into something between horror and sympathy.  “Shit.”

“I- I didn’t-“ Emily tried to find some way to lie, but she couldn’t find her composure, couldn’t find the words.

“ _Christ_!  It makes so much sense now!”  Emma’s eyes were bright and dangerous as she put all the evidence together.  “Your time off, your illness, you-“  And then her expression changed as her gaze hit Emily, her mouth twisting and then falling open, brow furrowed in puzzlement, and she just _looked_.  “You…?”

Emily swallowed hard, and tried to shrug casually.  “Shit happens.”

Emma’s shoulders dropped and she leaned back against the counter.  “You don't think I know _that_?”  She pressed her forehead into her hand.  “But still.  _Shit_.”

Emily moved to the fridge and fumbled around inside.  “Want a beer?”

“Yes, _please_.”

There was a dead silence as she cracked the tops off and handed one to Emma.  Emma was staring at her, as if it was still far more than she could comprehend.  And Emily didn’t know what she was supposed to say, didn’t know what she was supposed to _do_ , now that this, the worst possible thing, had already happened.

“I don’t see her that often,” she said softly, finally, her mouth tensed and unhappy.  “My parents adopted her, and when I said I needed to get away and stay away, they let me.  She is my little sister now, sort of.  I go over and play on weekends, like a sister.”

Emma’s eyes were fixed on her, the beer forgotten and sweating in her hand.  “They just let you go?” she asked, her voice incredulous, but in a strangely personal way, as if she wanted to believe it, maybe wanted believe it could be true for _her_.  “They didn’t bawl you out for being an irresponsible little shit and disinherit you?  They didn’t throw you out?”

“I’m sure they thought about it.  But I needed help, and I asked for it.”  And Emily didn’t want to remember how it had felt, to not have any way to turn, any way to make a decision, any idea what she was supposed to _do_.  So she had just admitted everything.  “And they were so confused and so upset, more upset than _I_ was really.  I thought I deserved it for being so _stupid_.”

Emma’s face was a blank page.  “They didn’t tell you to kill it?”

“I thought about it, they talked about it.  We were in Europe, so it would have been easy.  But maybe it would have been too easy.  I only knew that I wanted to be punished, feel punished, so I could remember it, and grow _up_.  But I didn't want to punish anyone else for my being a stupid teenager.”  She snorted.  “How fucked up do you think a kid would get with me as their parent?”

“Not as fucked up as me.”

Emily eyed her.  Did she mean that the kid wouldn’t be as fucked up as her, or that she could fuck up a kid worse?  She probably meant both.  Probably neither were true.

“Then I got sick.  I was fifteen, and my body really couldn’t take it, and it was a big mess.  I ended up in the hospital for a couple of months, but we both survived.  She went home before I did, and when I finally got out my parents… had changed.  It was the strangest thing ever.  They had been separated for years by then, and barely on speaking terms most of the time, but having a new baby, having that complete intensity and need to care for something besides themselves and their work had brought them back to a place in their relationship that I had never seen before.  And I also sort of knew that it would be worse if I were around.  If they didn’t have to see their shitty fucked up daughter trying to _deal_ with this everyday, they could pretend not to know how the story turned out.”  Emily shook her head.  They had been _happy_ , and she couldn’t be, not there, and she would have just brought everyone down, made her parents angry with her inconsistent uncontrollable emotions about that little girl.  There was so much hate, and anger, and despair, and it would all bubble up, until she wasn't sure if she could keep herself from lashing out at someone else, or violently at herself.  “I was still recovering and the doctor said warm climates and no school, so my parents let some friends of theirs take me around the world on their boat.  It was… exactly what I needed.  I got a chance to just let it all go, rebuild from scratch.”

And Emma’s eyes were wide and blue, and _hurting_.  “That's…” she shook her head.  “Really _lucky_.”

Emily blinked.  She had never thought of it in those terms.  The trip, the escape, had been a godsend, but in a way she had lucked out over and over again, with her parents helping her and not blaming her, with them taking responsibility when she couldn’t, with them letting her get out and take the opportunity to recover.

“Seriously though,” Emma was looking at her, up through her eyelashes, her head slightly tipped forward, hair falling in her face.  “After that, I’d never want to have sex _again_.”

And Emily’s breath caught in her chest.  How could she… she was looking at her, teasing, like it was _nothing_ , like it was just something she could accept, could joke about.  She forced a smile.  “ _You_?”  Then she shook her head.  “I also figured out that I liked girls that year.  I didn’t jump right in, but knowing that girls can’t knock you up was _really_ a tension tamer.”

“Indeed,” Emma said, nodding sagely.  Her lips twisted and she ducked her head.  “I don’t want to interrogate you.  I figure you don’t talk about this a lot.”

Emily shook her head.  “I’ve never told _anyone_.  You guessed.”

“It would be around the school in _seconds_.”

“Are you going to tell?” Emily asked softly, and Emma looked at her.  She huffed air out her nose.

“No one would believe me.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Honestly, the best gossip of the year, and people would think I’d been abducted by aliens or something.”  She sidled forward and gave Emily a light elbow in the side.  “Do you want to- watch something?  Or I could film us having sex, but I thought I’d give you a second option.”

“Watching something sounds good.”

“ _Well_.”  And Emma led the way to her living room, crashing in front of her movie collection, and starting to sort through it with many disapproving sounds.

Emily stood behind her and just watched, then she shook her head, and dropped to her knees beside her to help out.

*            *            *

If there was anyone who _shouldn’t_ know about her secret, it was Emma.  She had already proven how careless and cruel she could be with secrets, and Emily didn’t have anything that was more important, more precious than this.  But knowing that there was no way to force Emma to keep it to herself was almost relaxing.  There was nothing she could do, and nothing she had to do.  She’d just wait.

But Emma was acting all wrong!  Why wasn’t she rejoicing in it?  She could use it against her so easily, threaten her, blackmail her.  Rape, in Sebastian’s definition, probably didn’t include recreational drugs or coercion.  It was only physical force against direct protests.  Emily looked at the girl sitting on her couch, watching Voyager, and wondered how many times Sebastian had ‘not raped’ her.

“Isn’t it weird how characters can be hotter than the actors who play them?”

Emily blinked, shaking herself out of her thoughts.  “Huh?”

“You know,” Emma gestured to the TV.  “Seven of Nine, hot.  Jeri Ryan, only so-so.”

Emily considered this.  “Kind of like you.”  Emma, objectively, was probably only a five or six.  Flat-chested, thin-lipped, a sort of prominent nose, and too skinny to really look like a grown woman.  But then she moved, or she looked at you, and she _embodied_ sex.  She burned, with anger, amusement, cruelty.  She was unpredictable and underhanded and unflinchingly honest at the same time.  She didn’t lie.  She destroyed lives for the fun of it, but she didn’t blackmail or threaten with any other goal in mind.  She was like a hurricane, descending on a beach town with no warning, wrecking indiscriminately, leaving devastation in her wake.

“You think I’m like Seven?  Seriously?”

Emily laughed.  Emma was making a face and she couldn’t tell whether it was horrified or pleased.  She smiled, honestly, for the first time since her secret had been revealed.  “I don’t know.  Hot, blonde, complete lack of understanding of decent human behavior?  Sounds like you.”

Emma flipped her off.

*            *            *

It was past midnight, but Emma hadn’t tried to leave.  She hadn’t wanted to, and Emily hadn’t even suggested it.  They had turned the volume down to not wake the downstairs neighbors, and Emily had pulled her knees up, leaving her combat boots on the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs, sitting like she needed the comfort, but couldn’t reach out of herself to get it.

She didn’t look eighteen.  She looked maybe twelve, sitting like that, her chin resting on her knee, and it was suddenly completely impossible to imagine that she could have had a child, that that body could have carried one, gone through something like that.  But bodies were good at keeping secrets.  Emma, completely distracted from the television, stared at her, at her flat abs, the tight muscles on her arms, the memory of her bare legs, long, and taut and powerful.  Emily flexed her toes.  She was fucking beautiful, and Emma knew she’d never believe her if she told her she was jealous.

“Do you have stretch marks?”

Emily glanced over, wide eyed, and then laughed uncomfortably.  “Uh, why does it sound like the idea turns you on?”

Emma hadn’t thought about it, but it kind of really did.  She shrugged.  “It’s sort of different, isn’t it?  Your body… it’s not like anyone else’s I’ve fucked.”  She shifted closer and reached around, cupping Emily’s breasts.  They were warm and heavy in her hands.  Emily yelped.  Emma moved into her back, rubbing her hands into them, and then teasing, squeezing a nipple between forefinger and thumb.

“Hey!”  Emily beat her off.

“Is that why you have such great tits?”

“I just have awesome tits,” Emily stated, crossing her arms over her chest and scooting to the other end of the sofa.  “Please leave them alone.”

“You sure?”  Emma crawled into her lap.  “I kinda want to suck them,”

“Look,” Emily said, carefully removing her from her lap.  “I- I know I said I got back on the horse, and I still like sex, and I still have sex.  But… mostly I touch people.  I get sort of uncomfortable letting people touch me.”

Emma stared at her, and her lower lip started to pout.  “Seriously?”  This was the worst news ever.  “Oh, crap.  I’m going to get buttfucked, aren’t I?”

Emily’s wrinkled her nose.  “What were you thinking, letting that be on the line?”

“What else was there?  He’s already taken everything else.”  She felt stiff and sullen and a thousand miles away from Emily’s warm living room.  Why did she have to bring that up?  And it wasn’t fair, that Emily could keep this secret, could expect her to keep it, and have her sins locked away, expunged, when Emma would never, _ever_ , have that chence.

“Do you… like him?”  Emily sounded like the idea was utterly impossible.  But she didn’t know him, not like Emma did.

Sometimes she thought he was beautiful, though she’d never tell him that, with his self-contained strength in his broad chest and his utter disdain for everything.  She wanted that.  She wanted to have the power to not care what people thought, to make enemies, and crush them.  She had wanted his power, and he had given her a taste, just enough to hook her, to make her want it more, and to know that it could never ever be hers.

 “ _Like_ him?”  Emma made a face.  “He’s…”  Then she shook her head.  “I don’t think there’s any way to sum him up that easily.  He’s Sebastian, and… he plays at being the nice guy.  He plays it with himself, I mean.  He thinks that everyone is better for taking what he wants to give them.  I’d despise him for that, except… if someone tries to defy him, tell him they don’t want what he has to give him, he’s ruthless.  So I respect him.”

Emily just looked at her.  “You respect him, because he doesn’t listen if you say no.  And he’s the one who told you you couldn’t rape me.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t a hypocrite.”  Emma shook her head.  And she looked at Emily, at the way her eyes were open, seeing more than she wanted to tell, and luring her to say more than she ever wanted to admit.  ‘At least, this way,’ she wanted to say, ‘he’s giving me a chance, an opportunity to tell him no.  All I have to do is not listen when you say it.’  She smiled, moving close, breathing gently on her jaw, her tongue flickering out, just momentarily.  “But you know what would really piss him off?  If someone else got there first.”

Emily’s breath shuddered, as finally the teasing worked.  “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“I’d let _you_ ,” she said.  “It would be different if it were you.”

“I can’t,” Emily said softly.  “I can’t let you fuck me either.  I’m sorry.”

“Oh, whatever,” Emma sighed.  “It’s not like I haven’t had worse things done to me.”

She was pulling away, and Emily reached out and caught her chin, bringing it back up.  “I really-“

“Don’t say you’re sorry.  I don’t want your _pity_.”

Emily laughed softly, “And I thought you were going to pity me.”  Emma blinked at her confused, why would she pity _her_?  And Emily leaned in and pressed their mouths together, firm and warm and chaste, and Emma didn’t – couldn’t bring herself to – make it anything else.

*            *            *

Emma woke up very comfortably pillowed on Emily’s breasts.  She _knew_ she liked them, and burrowed deeper.  They were soft and firm and warm.  The only improvement she could think of would be if they were naked.

“Um,” said Emily.

Emma didn’t move.  “I like them.  I’m staying here.”

Apparently they had slept on the couch, fully clothed, which was vaguely disappointing, but she didn’t have a headache either, so there was no alcohol induced reason for her to not remember the sex.  They had just made out for a little, and then fallen asleep.  That was incredibly lame.

“I hate to break it to you, but we have school, in like, forty minutes.”

“You’re asking me to choose between breasts and school, and actually expect me to pick _school_?”

Emily chuckled, causing jiggling beneath her.  “Okay, you’re awake now.”  And rudely, she sat up, pushing Emma off.  Emma sat up as well, and winced when her ass hit the couch.  Emily noticed, and looked worried.  “Hey, how is your…”

Emma glared at her.  “My _ass_?  You beat it.  Say the word.”  Emily just smiled, and Emma shook her head.  “You want to look?”

“Yeah.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, and then dropped onto her stomach, hiking up her skirt, and Emily hissed.  She didn’t know how it looked, but from how it felt and that sound, it seemed pretty colorful.  “Have you been icing, like I told you?”

“Sex related injury,” Emma muttered into the couch cushion.  _Treating_ sex related injuries was just a little much.

“Idiot.”

Emily thwapped her ass, and Emma yelped.  Then she got up, and Emma took the opportunity to catch a little more sleep, which worked until something freezing landed on her, and she yelped again.  “ _Seriously_?”

“Just… take _care_ of yourself.”

And those words felt more bitterly cold than the ice itself.

*            *            *

Emma couldn’t eat that day.  She watched Emily from across the lunchroom and wondered why ten yards felt so fucking far away.  It was still hard to sit and after lunch she stood by her locker and shifted awkwardly.  Maybe she should actually ice more.  Sebastian stared at her.  “You didn’t let her ass fuck you, did you?  Because you promised that to me.”

Emma scowled at him.  “No.  She caned me.”

Sebastian snorted.  “I’ve done that.  It’s foreplay.”

“That’s because you _suck_ at it.  I’m fucking purple from the waist down.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”  Emma bit her lip and looked shifty again.  “It was… kind of amazing.  Eighteen strokes.”  Then she frowned.  “Well, twenty six if you count the warm up.”

“I want to see!”

“No fucking way!  That video is mine.  I could come seeing that every night.”

“Hey,” there was a light grope to her ass, which hurt like _fire_ , and Emma yelped and turned into Emily who was grinning at her.  “You functioning okay?”

Emma breathed out, grinning back at her, a little shy.  “Within acceptable parameters.”

“Good.”

She walked away, and Emma watched her go, a look on her face that Sebastian was horrified by.  “You-  you’ve fallen for her!”

Emma gaped, staring at him.  “What?  No I haven’t!”

“And you’re being geeky with her!  You’re pathetic!”

Emma slapped him.  “Fuck off.”

“Oh no.  You’re falling apart Emma.”  Sebastian’s expression darkened.  There was a storm coming, and Emma clenched her locker, gritting her teeth to not show the fear on her face.  “The bet was to fuck her, not to make sweet lesbian love and give her pussy kisses.  I don’t want to watch that shit.  If it’s not fucking, you still lose.”  A cruel smile spread across his face.  “And I’m going to make _sure_ you lose.”

*            *            *


	4. Chapter 4

_Pinching with a moment so tight_

_Undone and looking just right_

_No not tonight_

_No not tonight_

_A smeared kiss_

_A moment missed_

_Are you upset with it?_

 

Smack.

Smack.

Smack, smacksmacksmack.

Emily threw up the window sash and dodged the next pebble that came sailing through.  Then she stuck her head out.  “Emma?”

Emma paused in her windup, and looked up.

“Emma?  What the-“  Emily covered her face.  “I have a _doorbell_.  It’s not like you’re going to wake up my parents.”

Emma laughed.  She cupped her stomach and laughed harder, and then she fell over.

Emily frowned.  “Are you _drunk_?”  She hurried down the stairs and out the door.  Emma was still on the ground, laughing into her knees.  “It’s _Thursday_.”

She gave Emma her hand and hauled her to her feet.  Emma laughed, falling into her body and smelling her hair.  “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”  Emily began to frogmarch her towards the door.  “Did you drive here?  Because that is seriously a DWI.”

Emma mumbled a little, pressing her face to Emily’s neck.  “I needed a fucking drink.”

“Oh really?”

“You don’t hate me?”  Emma’s knees buckled, and Emily hoisted her up.  She carried her up the steps onto the porch, and then eyed the stairs to her apartment uncomfortably.

“Am I supposed to?”

“You will,” Emma said softly.  “You’re really fucking strong.”

“You know, fucking is really not that descriptive of an adjective.”  Emily mounted the last stair, hauled Emma into the living room and dropped her on the couch.

“Fuck you,” Emma said, grinning.

Emily dropped onto the couch next to her.  “Now are you going to tell me why you’re throwing rocks at my window at two am on a Thursday night?”

Emma looked up at her, and her face was sad.  “I thought about telling all day.”  Emily looked sharply at her.  “Telling about you.”  She took a breath and leaned back against the cushions.  “It would be a bargaining chip.  I could… bargain.  But you’d be sad.”  She looked at Emily, moving slightly towards her.  “You’re too pretty to be sad.”

Emily gaped.  “You…”

Emma moved then, climbing on top of her, straddling her lap and cupping her face, one hand under her chin, the other touching her cheek.  “Just one, please?” she asked, softly.  “Just one.”

Emily’s lips parted to ask, ‘one what?’  But Emma leaned in, gently capturing her mouth.  ‘Oh.  One kiss.’

Then Emma slumped forward.  Emily caught her, and slowly lowered her down.  She was unconscious.  Emily chuckled quietly.  She brushed her fingers over Emma’s lips.  No, that girl was nothing like she expected.

In the morning, Emma was gone.  And one of the photographs from her fridge door was missing.

Emily went to school half panicked, and waited for something to happen.  When it did, it was nothing she had expected.

She opened her locker to pack to go home that it did, and twelve photos tumbled out and scattered over the floor.

Emily bent and picked one up.  She looked at it, and looked, she couldn’t move.  Slowly, she slumped down, her back against the lockers, and sat on the floor, gathering the pictures up.  She didn’t want to look at them, but she couldn’t not.

*            *            *

Twelve photos.

Six of Emma being fucked by various guys in various positions.

Six close-ups of her giving blow-jobs.

Emily almost wanted to laugh at how _blatant_ the photos were.  Emma’s head tipped back, rubbing a cock over her lips, cheeks hollow as she sucked hard, wincing as she took a shot to the face.  She stared for a long time at the one with Emma’s hands bound above her head as she got banged against a wall.  Doggy style, reverse cowgirl, splayed on a sofa with one guy on top of her, and the other pushing his cock into her mouth, riding one boy and jerking another. 

She looked at them, over and over again, trying to make an estimate of how many guys were involved, considering whether or not she really could see the hint of a condom, but it was academic, there was a problem with them, and she was trying to figure it out.

And then she did.  The angles were all different, chosen specifically for the sex act involved.  They weren’t amateur sex shots, not even peeping-tom hidden cameras, like Emma had.  These were stills taken from porn videos.

She flipped them over, and looked at the backs.  There was a URL on the back of one, with a name and password.  When Emily got home, she logged in.  There were eight videos.  She watched them all.

*            *            *

Messy, aroused, and sick to her stomach, Emily went to her apartment.  Emma buzzed her up, and when she came up, the door was unlocked.  She found her in her bedroom at her desk, fucking with the computer.

“Hey.”

And Emily didn’t know what to say, or how to say it.  “You did porn.”

Emma shrugged.  “It happens.”  She turned around, looking Emily straight in the eye, her expression flat and unmoved.

“It _happens_?”  But that wasn’t what she wanted to say, it was, ‘you knew, you knew he’d do this, and you didn’t stop him.  Why didn’t you try to stop him?’

“What do you want me to say?”  Emma just smiled, it was bitter and arrogant and smug, and Emily wanted to hit her.  “I _like_ sex.  Sebastian filmed us a couple of times, and then he brought people over so he could actually work the camera.  It was hot.”  She looked at Emily through half-lowered lashes.  “I filmed you, you know, beating me.  I could watch that every night.”

“You did _what_?”

“Do you know how beautiful you are with that cane in your hand?  You work it like a master, and I just scream and scream.  And it’s _real_.  I can only watch porn when I’m already horny, but that film can turn me on from _nothing_.”

“I didn’t give you permission to do that!”

Emma blinked.  “Permission?”  She frowned.  “It’s my house, my bed, my camera.”

“It’s my body!”

She shrugged.  “Sebastian never asked me for permission.  He just filmed me a couple of times and showed it when he had cut it down as a surprise.”  She shrugged.  “It was already online by then.  I’m kind of surprised you didn’t know before.  Most of the school knows.”

“How many of those guys had HIV?”

Emma looked at her like she was an idiot.  “I’m clean.  I’m not my sister.  I don’t even fuck Sebastian without a condom, and I haven’t fucked him since we started this bet.  You want to see my last blood panel?  You’ll let me win then?”

“I want to know that I haven’t-  haven’t-“  Made the same mistake _again_ , let something as worthless as _sex_ destroy her.

“Become me?”  Emma stared her down.  “You’ve kissed me.  You let me suck your fingers after you masturbated.  You took a stick and beat me black and blue.  We haven’t even come _close_ to having sex.  Did you want to?  I’d eat you out.  You can fuck me if you still don’t want me to win.” 

Emma turned away and grabbed a strap on out of the chest, tossing it on the bed.  It was long and thick and black and made of something that really didn’t look like plastic.  She added a box of condoms.  “You don’t even have to take off your clothes.  You can fuck me any way you want without even having to touch me skin to skin.”

Emily didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this.  She wasn’t sorry, she wasn’t even ashamed.  She knew she would get called on it eventually, and she just smiled, and offered her body up, as if it was worth anything anymore.

Or maybe she offered it up because it wasn’t worth anything.  It made Emily sick.  She had been working for years on the same thing, scraping together tiny bits of worth, to try and build up a body she would want to own.  After it had been taken from her, after she had thrown it away, given it to the first person who asked, and then had it wrenched away, turned inside out, and changed into something she couldn’t even recognize, something than made her sick, made her hurt, nearly killed her… she had tried so hard, becoming strong, running fast, trying to look at herself in the mirror and like it, and she had thought…  But Emma didn’t understand.  Emma had thrown herself away and would do it over and over again.

“Any way I want?”

Emma grinned.  “Any way you want.  I’ll give you my ass.  Seb will be sad, but.” she shrugged.  “I’d really rather it were you.”

When she had said that before, Emily had thought it was sweet.  She didn’t any more.  she didn’t want to feel like this, want to beat her until she understood, until she was weak and crumpled and broken, and she had learned not to fuck people around like this, not to act like you cared when all you wanted to do was make them like you.  And Emily didn’t even care if she were on camera.  Emma had invited her to be one of the nameless, faceless fuckers, and she would take that.  She wouldn’t let them have any more of her than she did.  “I want your wrists bound.”

Emma looked at her, eyes intent.  “So that’s a _yes_?”

Emily shuffled her sweatshirt sleeve over her fingers and gingerly picked up the cock.  It was heavy, some sort of metal maybe, and she started putting it on over her jeans.  The weight of the base pressed right against her clit, even through three layers of cloth, and the images from the photos blurred in her head, leaving only the memory of Emma’s lips, everywhere.

“Get on your knees.”  Emily threw the box of condoms at her.  “Put it on.”

Emma snagged it out of the air and raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed in a way that made Emily want to fuck her throat.  She dropped to her knees, tilted her head, and started unbuttoning her shirt.  Just the top three, enough to give a teasing glimpse of her white lacy bra.  She mussed her hair, and then took out one of the packets.  She started rolling it on, dragging the head over her lips, and looking up at Emily through her hair.

“You don’t have to act like a _whore_.”

“Isn’t that what you want?  You want to fuck the porn star, right?  You want to feel the dirt and pretend it can’t touch you through your clothes.”

“I want to fuck _you_.”

“But you don’t want to touch me.”  Emma stared at her, her face flat and expressionless.  “No one’s ever fucked _me_.  I’ve been someone else for everyone I’ve slept with.  I can be whoever you want.  Who do you want?”

“Shut _up_!”

Emily grabbed her by her shirt and dragged her off the floor.  She backed her against the wall, shoving her into it, her back and the back of her head smacking into it.  Her hips hit her, the cock digging painfully into her gut.  Emma gasped and Emily kissed her, mouth open, forcing her chin up, biting at her lips, and pressing just a little harder than she needed to on her throat.  She let go and Emma gasped for breath.  “What?”

Emily caught her under the knees and slid her hands up her thighs, under her skirt, curling over her ass, and then taking hold and ripping the flimsy material of her underwear apart.  “I want to fuck _you_.  I need to fuck _you_!  You wrecked my life.  You poison everything you touch, and I won’t let you pretend you’re getting away with it.”  Her fingers sank into her, wet and hot, and she found the head, firm and cold under her hand, and pressed it against her.  “I’m going to fuck you, and not any of those people you pretend to be.  Why would I want any of them?  I hate _you_.”  And with that she thrust in and up, and Emma made a sound like a gasp and a cry trying to emerge at the same time.  Emily caught her thighs and jerked up.  Emma locked her ankles around her waist, riding her hips, and Emily held her up, drew back, and fucked into her, slamming her up against the wall with just the force of her hips.  Emma sobbed, her fingers tangling in her hair, her mouth wet against her cheek.

“ _Emily_.”

*            *            *

By the end Emma’s fingernails had cut through her shirt and her skin, staining the white oxford with traces of blood.  Emily had come, her underwear and jeans a sticky mess, and Emma was limp and immobile on her bed.  It hurt her to move.

Emily unfastened the buckles and let the metal dildo drop to the floor.

“You’re going to go?”

Emily stared at her, skirt rucked up, shirt rumpled and torn, her hair a mess, lips swollen and glistening with spit, thoroughly manhandled, and thought about staying.

“Yeah,” she said softly.  “I need to.”

Emma nodded, her body staying still.  Emily moved towards her, hovering over her.  Emma’s eyes were open and hurting.  Quickly, she leaned down and rubbed her thumb over her kiss-bruised lower lip.  It was absurdly chaste, after having fucked her up against the wall, harder than any man could manage, but even if Emma never asked for anything more, Emily always seemed to be walking away, leaving her bruised and broken behind her.

*            *            *

Emily wasn’t picking up her phone.

“Dammit,” Emma hissed, and threw her cell at the wall.  It smacked hard and broke into three pieces.  She whirled, storming to her computer and pulled up Photoshop. 

A picture of Emily was already on the screen, blown up to full size.  She had been standing there, looking horrified as Emma told her the truth, her lips slightly parted, eyes wide.  She had just started capping the last video she had taken, and opened it, flipping through, frame by frame, seeing, as if it were an animated flipbook, Emily catch her thighs, and lift her, bracing her against the wall, and then _enter_ her.  She flipped back and watched the sequence again, slowed down to see the way her own head tilted back, her mouth coming open in a silent cry, and her hips canting towards her, leaning in, to take more, take every scrap of the fucking Emily was giving her.

Sebastian wouldn’t like it.  Neither of them were naked.  Emily still had her stupid black hoodie on, and Emma’s skirt was her plaid uniform skirt which didn’t ruck up like the tight ones.  But Emma would keep it.  Maybe in a couple of years she could watch it and just enjoy remembering how deeply the cock had plowed into her.  You weren’t supposed to strap the hard ones on.  If someone else used them on you, you wanted hand control, and she had gotten them mainly for self-pleasure purposes.  Sebastian was a traditionalist when it came to his movies.  He didn’t like toys. 

She could hardly walk the whole next day.  The metal had been cold when it pierced her, but it warmed right up inside her, almost like a real boy, except _so much better_.

But she couldn’t lie about that, not to herself.  The best part was Emily’s hands gripping so tightly around her thighs, the little sounds she made as she drew out and then fucked into her, the scent of her as Emma buried her face into her sweatshirt, and the fierce way she had kissed her, right as she was on the edge of coming, biting into her lips, and turning her orgasm from excellent into mind-blowingly sublime.

And then she had taken her to the bed, stripping off her sweatshirt, and pinned her down, changing the angle and fucked her again.

No, that first picture was the one she wanted.  She opened a text box.

“Emily Prentiss’ Darkest Secret!”

The video was on the side.  She hit play, watching Emily’s hands curl around her deltoids, shoving her deep into the mattress as she rocked her hips, long, slow and relentless.  It had burned and Emma had been sobbing, but she hadn’t wanted her to stop.  She hadn’t ever wanted her to stop.

“Illicit sex!”

She needed a better pic for that part.  She knew what she wanted, Emily’s head tipped back, her mouth kiss-bruised, letting someone else take control.  But that was the point of the bet wasn’t it?  Emily didn’t let other people take control, not anymore.

That was close enough, Emily reaching to continue a just-broken kiss.  She would continue it.  She had caught Emma’s head, pulled her back, plundered her mouth.  Very carefully, Emma cut herself out of the frame.

“Pregnant at 15?”

Emma stared at the picture she had chosen, at Emily shocked and hurt, hurting _for_ her, and Emma had just made her hate her again.  Then she glance down at the picture of Emily, looking horrifically uncomfortable as she held that little girl, she hadn’t even scanned it yet, and her hands tightened into fists.

“Fuck!” she hissed, and closed the file without saving it.

*            *            *

“You look like shit.”

Emily spun, glaring at JJ.  “What do you want?”

“She threw you over already?  What was it?  Four days?”  JJ smiled tightly.  “I guess you believe me now.  The whole school knows she’s a whore.  The new girl’s finally catching up.”

“Just… _shut up!_ ”  Emily hissed.  “You don’t know her.”

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong.”

And Emily couldn’t, but it wasn’t like she could deny it about herself either.  “She might be a whore, but you’re turning into a real bitch.”

JJ flipped her off and stalked away.

*            *            *

“Look, we can fake the video if you want.”

Emily looked bewildered, which wasn’t surprising, since Emma had found her at the party and dragged her into a closet without even a word.

“We can set up the angle so you can’t see that well, and I’ll get between your legs, and you can fake it, just look pathetic and whimper a bit and Sebastian won’t know the difference.  Lesbian porn is always faked anyways.”

Emily just closed her eyes.  “I’m not… I’m not going to do this anymore.  I don’t want to be around you.  You just want to win, and you’ll go back to him, and let him fuck your ass anyways, let him film it and sell it online, just like he does with every other part of you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to do that anymore!”  It was more than she had wanted to say, more than she had ever dared to admit to herself, after Trevor, after he had _run_.  “Maybe I want to find someone who I can… can fall in love with, someone I can trust.  Maybe I want that with _you_.”

Emily looked like she had slapped her in the face.  She didn’t believe a word of it.  Emma didn’t really either.  She had good instincts.  “You chose me because you were bored.  You ruined my life.  I _hate_ you.  Do you not get that?  I can’t be that person for you because I _hate_ you!”

“So you’ll just let Sebastian fuck me, won’t you?  Just start it again.  It’s not like I have a choice.  It’s not like anyone else will ever want me, not after what I’ve done, who I’ve been.  Maybe I need someone to protect me, because no one ever has before.”

“Don't tell me you didn’t enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?  Enjoy learning to make men slaves to their baser instincts?  Enjoy ruining your life?  Enjoy sweaty rancid cock when I could have my tongue buried between your thighs?  But yeah, of course I enjoyed it.”  Emma sneered at her, the idiot.  “I _love_ sex.  I love being able to be in my body, and use it, and make people scream because I’m _just_ that good.  I’m not ashamed.  I didn’t suck one more cock than I wanted to, I didn’t ride one more boy, or lick one more pussy than I chose.  And if you tell me you don’t understand, that you kept your legs pressed together like a good little girl, I will laugh in your face.  My escapades might be caught on camera, but there is _hard_ evidence of yours.”  And there, now she _ought_ to look like she’d been slapped.  “And maybe I’m bored.  Maybe that’s all it is.  But I’ve been bored for a while now.  And you… you’re interesting.”

“Get _away_ from me.”  Emma had her backed against the far wall of the closet, but she wasn’t touching her.  If she was afraid of something as stupid as words, it was her own fault.

“I could make you love your body again.  I could make you open up, and remember how _awesome_ it can feel to give someone else control.  I could make you come and come and come, no strings, no risks, no commitments.  But you, my darling teenage _mother_ , think I’m disgusting, because you got to _watch_.”

*            *            *

Emily hated her, hated her vicious, manipulative ways, hated seeing her body used and manhandled by those men, hated that she had fucked her anyways, fucked her when she was angry, spread her and penetrated her, knowing all she really wanted was for Emma to cry, and get on her knees, and tell her it was rape, and that she was hurt and victimized and ashamed, and let Emily be magnanimous in her forgiveness.  Like Emma had been for her, she wanted to say, but Emma hadn’t forgiven her, she hadn’t even pitied her.  She’d been shocked, and interested, but she had just accepted it.  That had been what she had wanted too, hadn’t it?  She hadn’t wanted forgiveness, or pity, she had just asked for acceptance, and Emily hated the pride that made her unable to give it.

Sebastian would win.  He’d bend her over that same bed and take the one thing she hadn’t given to anyone, but had offered Emily freely.  “It would be different if it were you.”

She looked at the clock.  Half an hour and the bet was done.

*            *            *

Emma stood next to Sebastian by the window in the lunchroom, watching the minute hand on her watch tick towards noon.  Sebastian leaned against the wall, smiling.  “You’ve already lost.  You have fifteen minutes.  She’s not going to magically appear pierced through on your cock.”

“I know.”  She looked at Sebastian, her eyes dropping to the bulge at his crotch.  He was already hot.  He wouldn’t want to wait to take his prize, but he would.  He’d wait until they were in her room, and then he’d bind her.  He’d want to remind her that she was his.  Fuck her every way he could think of, cover her with his sperm and his sweat, and she had long ago lost her chance to tell him no.  There would never be anyone willing to take her away from him, accept her after all she’d done, with all the smut and stains on her soul. 

For a moment she had thought Emily could be the one.  Even with all her rage and hate, everything that Emma deserved after what she had done to JJ, she had cared, enough to give her a chance.  But, just like Trevor, she couldn’t handle seeing the evidence of all the things that Emma had done.

Trevor had thought she was perfect though, maybe a little overwhelming and slightly oversexed, but he had thought she was nice.  Emily had never been fooled about that.  And Trevor had been different.  He had liked her, not her last name, and had worried about whether she enjoyed herself rather than who saw them together or what the position looked like from the camera angle.  And she had been naïve.  She hadn’t realized that when she told Sebastian that she wasn’t interested in sleeping with him or whoever he had found anymore, that she had a _boyfriend_ , and was sort of curious about how that went, he would get angry.  Of course he wouldn’t let her go.  And of course Trevor would never understand.  But she had thought Emily might.  Just because you had a past, it didn’t mean you didn’t want a future.

 Maybe she was scared that Emma would tell her secrets, use their tapes in the same way that Sebastian did.  And she could do it, made sure Emily never had anyone else, broke her spirit until she came running back.  But it wouldn’t be enough.  Emily would be hers, but she would still be his.  Still, even hurting her a little bit would be more satisfying than letting her go.  But she wouldn’t.  Emily had those pretty eyes that were already always sad.  She didn’t need to make it worse.

“Time’s almost up.”

“ _Emma_.”

*            *            *

Emma looked up.  Emily was walking down the aisle between the tables, in a short red dress that barely brushed her thighs and her combat boots, red lipstick and sunglasses, and Emma couldn’t breathe.

“Emma,” she repeated, and she caught her by the shoulders, backed her into a chair.  Her knees hit it and clumsily, Emma collapsed into it.  Emily took off her sunglasses and looked at Sebastian.  “You wanted visual evidence, didn’t you?  So pay attention.”

She straddled Emma’s lap and grabbed her wrist.  Emma was gaping at her, astonished and tortured, and Emily didn’t have the time to waste with kissing her, or telling her it was all right.  She just pulled her hand between her legs and pressed it against her wet pussy, no underwear, nothing under the dress.  Emma gasped.

“Come on,” Emily whispered.  “Fuck me.  You win.”

And two fingers slid into her, long and straight and talon tipped, and Emily ground down on to her hand.  “I hate you,” she hissed and bit her neck, hard enough to make Emma scream.  “But I hate thinking about you with him more.  I’m letting you win, and you _owe_ me.”

Her hips were rolling now as she fucked herself on Emma’s hand.  A third finger pushed into her, and then a fourth, and her thrusts were harder, faster, desperate.  Emma’s other hand was clinging hard to the back of her dress, and she leaned in, kissing her roughly, biting down on her lower lip, and in a gasping sob Emma managed to reply.  “ _Anything_.”

“ _Everything_ ,” Emily commanded, and then she rolled in and Emma thrust, and she came, fireworks exploding behind her eyes.  She gasped, and Emma thrust in again, sending another wave over her, and Emily came for a second time, and fell, her face dropping into the curve of Emma’s shoulder, clinging as weak as a kitten to her, and Emma slowly extracted her fingers, paused to lick them, and then closed her arms around her back.

*            *            *

“Everything,” Emma agreed softly.  Why would she bargain, when that was all she had wanted in the first place?

“That- was fucking _awesome!_ ” Sebastian had collapsed into a chair, smiling, a wet spot in the middle of his pants.

“Mr. Shaw,” said a much less pleased voice.  “Please keep your comments to yourself.”  Principal Strauss stood in the middle of the cafeteria, Counselor Hotchner beside her looking utterly horrified.  “Miss Frost, Miss Prentiss, once you are quite recovered and cleaned up, please report to my office, and we will discuss the extent of your suspension.”  Behind them, the whole school was staring in shock.  Apparently someone had run to tell.

Emily took a deep breath, straightening slowly, taking a moment to bite lightly at Emma’s shoulder, and then she turned to Sebastian.  “I never want you to touch her again.”

Sebastian froze, and then his face darkened.  “I never made a deal with you.”

“You made a deal with me,” Emma said.  She was almost shaking now.  This was it, and she had to play it right.  “If I recall, you promised me whatever I wanted.”

“And is that what you want?”  He sneered.  “To go forever without my gentle touch?”

“No,” Emma said, flatly.  “I want every video, every picture, every file you have of me destroyed.  That includes the ones online.  I want my _life_ back.”

Sebastian’s face contorted into a scowl.  “What’s the _point_?  Everyone already knows you’re a slut.”  He made a gesture that encompassed the whole room.  “I don’t think there are ten boys in this school who haven’t seen the videos.  And this little display didn’t do anything for your reputation.”

“I don’t _care_ what they think.  I just don’t want _you_ to have them.  We played the game.  You had the chance to have every last piece of me, but I won, and you don’t get to keep any of them.”

“And what would you do if I didn’t?  What would you do if I sent your daddy my website?”

“I’d prosecute you.”  She smiled tightly.  “You’ve seen the videos.  You didn’t get my consent to make them, and you didn’t get it to put it online.  And I’m sixteen.  Do you get my point?”

“You’d never do it.  Your father would-”

“You threaten to tell him and then say I’d be too scared to tell him you’ve been using me?  Delete them now.  In fact, delete everything you’ve got.  Because I don’t make threats, and in four hours the FBI are going to get an email from an anonymous source with the website and your IP address.”

Sebastian gaped.  “You- you _bitch_!”  He jumped up and ran out of the lunchroom.

Emma grinned, turning back to Emily in her lap.  “I think I like it when you hate me.”

Emily stared.  “What- what was that?  Did you… plan all that?”

Emma blinked, pursing her lips.  “No.  I was totally bullshitting the whole thing.  Was it good?”

Emily just looked at her, her expression utterly bewildered, and it was hilarious really, to know that she hadn’t worked it all out, that she had come and saved her, because she _cared_ , and not because she pitied her, or knew how much Emma had wanted out, and now she was free, and she couldn’t help smiling, couldn’t help feeling like she could control the sun and stars with a motion of her fingertips, that she could go anywhere, and do anything, and with Emily, stunned and well-fucked in her lap, she didn’t want to go anywhere at all.  She smiled, and Emily kissed her.

FIN


	5. Epilogue

Well, no one had ever told her that dating Emma Frost was going to be _easy_. 

 

Most of Emily’s friends asked her straight out, ‘what the hell was she thinking?’  And in truth, she didn’t know.  Emma was like a magnet, or a star, and you got caught in her orbit, and you knew that even if she got bored with you and turned away, you’d never be able to break free.

 

Emma had never claimed anything more than curiosity.  Waiting in the anteroom to the principal’s office, Emma had leaned against her, buried her head in her shoulder, and commented, “I know you kind of hate me, but… I’d just like to see what it would be like, you know, being with you.”

 

The thought had made Emily sick.  Emma had spent the last two weeks with her at the end of a bungee cord, and you couldn’t bargain with her, you couldn’t ask nicely, you just hung on and hoped that you wouldn’t get slammed into a wall.  She raised the stakes higher and higher, and Emily didn’t know how to deal with that.  All she was good at was pulling back and not getting involved.  She had watched the clock tick towards noon telling herself that it wasn’t her business, that she shouldn’t make it her business.  But if she hadn’t, she would have hated herself forever.

 

And Emma was warm against her, and the only person she had been able to give herself to, even though it wasn’t safe, wasn’t easy, wasn’t _normal_.  And she wanted to scream at her, and tell her to be _normal_ , and not act like a crazy person, or tell her things like ‘I want to be with you’ when that was it, it was yes or no, no bargaining, no trial run, no easing into it with casual dating or being friends.  Emily didn’t know how to _do_ that.  But that was what you got with Emma.  You couldn’t ask a person to be someone they weren’t.

 

If Emily had learned anything from the shitty things that had happened to her, it was to just take it as it came, and not think about the future, or the fear would drown you. 

 

She sighed and her fingernails traced patterns on Emma’s scalp, tangling in her hair.  “Yeah,” she said.  “Sure.”

 

Being suspended for a week was definitely a crash course in dealing with Emma, and it was dealing 24-7 because apparently Emma liked her apartment, and was fine with sleeping on the couch when she threw her out of her bedroom and told her that no, she was still really freaked out, and wasn’t ready to sleep with her again.  Emma found this amusing, but was willing to coddle her.

 

The next morning, Emma had sat on the counter and handed her things while she cooked breakfast.  It had almost felt easy.  Then her parents charged in during a syrupy fingers battle, very upset that the principal’s office hadn’t gotten around to calling them until the day _after_ their daughter had been suspended.

 

Introducing Emma to her parents and Melanie (sometimes she hated her parents for picking that name, and Emma had laughed and laughed, “Emily and Melanie, it's like a tongue twister.”) for the first time, as the girl, yes, that she had been suspended for committing lewd acts in the cafeteria with, was not the best situation she could have hoped for.  But Emma was kind of terrifyingly good at cutting off parental tirades by being impeccably polite (and unnervingly interested in Melanie).  And once it had come out that she had spent the night on the couch (blankets and pillow still there to prove it) the whole ‘she stayed over’ angle was pretty much dead.  And since no one actually knew what lewd acts meant, they just laughed about it, hoping that her parents would think that it was kissing and maybe a little inappropriate groping, not worthy of a full week’s suspension, but not worthy of complaining to the principle about and giving him the chance to explain exactly what they had done to get suspended either.

 

Somehow, the worst part was they actually liked Emma.  They hadn’t met JJ, (JJ had been utterly horrified by the idea) but it felt a little like Emma was usurping the opportunity that should have been hers.  Or perhaps it was just because she was showing a side Emily hadn’t seen before, she was polite and appropriate, bright and confident, and nothing like the brazen, slutty, hellbitch that Emily knew.

 

Her parents left, squeezing her shoulders, half worried, and half smiles, and Emily wondered what they could be thinking.  It was so difficult to understand.  Somehow, when everything had happened before, they had decided to treat her like an adult.  That had been the hardest thing to get used to.  She hadn’t wanted to be treated like an adult.  She had wanted to be punished.  If you were punished it meant that your mistake had been paid for.  You wouldn’t have to suffer it for your whole life, because you parents had taken the responsibility for it.  But they had taken the physical reality of her failure away, and left her with the guilt and the weight of the knowledge that she couldn’t be punished, because she could never be absolved.  They had made a bargain.  She would have a second chance, and they would give her the freedom to try again.  But the safety net was gone.  She had the freedom to pay for her own mistakes.  They could only remind her of her own goals and decisions, and make certain she would take steps to see that the suspension didn’t interfere with them.

 

Emma went home for clothes, and Emily cried on the couch for an hour.

 

x          x            x

 

Wednesday night and Emily was panicking.  This had clearly been a stupid idea.  Being together didn’t work for them.  They were only attracted to each other when they were fighting.

 

She tried to explain this.  Emma looked at her like she was an idiot, but an amusing one, then laced her fingers behind her head and pulled her in for a kiss.

 

Other panics were waiting in line to fill in when that one had been obliterated.  They ended up making out on the couch, and then somehow Emma had snaked her way under her, and Emily was on top, and terrified that it was going to be a complete failure.

 

They had never done this.  And Emma had done… a thousand things, and none of them had been as boring and simple as just fingers.  But she slipped a hand up her skirt anyway, and Emma bucked, and Emily sank into her, breathing out.

 

She couldn’t confuse herself or distract herself, because she couldn’t think of anything else but the sounds that Emma made and the way she twitched and shuddered at each move.  She drew it out, loving the way Emma let her, clinging to her hair and the back of her shirt, tilting her head back and baring her neck to Emily’s teeth.

 

And Emily was the only one who got to watch her come that night, and she wouldn’t share it with anyone.

 

x          x            x

 

By the time school came back around, Emily had almost accepted the fact that Emma wanted her.  She would respond whenever Emily showed interest, but she wouldn’t make the first move. If she was interested, she would whine and flirt and forget to button her shirt up all the way.  But she wouldn’t demand it.  She still let Emily have that much control, and Emily couldn’t help but thank her for it, silently, because Emma would mock her if she ever mentioned it.

 

But school was new territory entirely.  Everyone already knew about the _thing_ that had happened in the lunchroom.  Emily knew that most of the school would think she was a slut, and that even the people she considered friends would need a lot of explanation. 

 

For the rest of the student body, kissing Emma at her locker was all she thought she needed to do.  Maybe it had been a dramatic overture, but they would forget eventually, and maybe they would assume that it was just a fight, one of the (unavoidably) crazy bumps in whatever sort of relationship this was. 

 

But what it had done, that everyone noticed, was take Emma away from Sebastian.  Sebastian was sour and vengeful about it, but he hadn’t _done_ anything yet.  Still, there was no way that Emma would be able to sit by him during lunch.

 

There was a chair by the window that _no one_ sat in, and most of the people who were in Emma’s clique had lost respect for her long ago.  Perhaps they admired her for extricating herself from Sebastian, but they didn’t like her.  So Emily had done her best.  She had harangued Ororo in the bathroom until she had finally acquiesced.  And as stiff as a board Ro had casually approached Emma as she came into the lunchroom and said her lines.  Emma, making use of her unexpected politeness and poise smiled and nodded.  Ro brought her to their table, and introduced her, and when she sat next to Emily and forced herself to make a good impression when her reputation had been in the sewer for years, the group at the table did their level best to not flinch away.

 

At least Derek and Bobby just treated it as if it were live theatre, and were congratulatory and appreciative.  Girls were always so much more difficult.

 

Emma kissed her goodbye after school and took off without anything more than, “Monday, family dinner,” and Emily went home, and collapsed on her sofa, and felt completely messed up about being alone.  She fell asleep there.  Emma came in late and locked up.  She pulled a blanket over her, watching her for a little bit before taking the opportunity to have the bed to herself.

 

x          x            x

 

Sometimes Emily wondered if Emma felt things like other people, or if she was brass inside as well as out.  Even when she was drunk and affectionate it was broad strokes of affection, wrapping her arms around Emily’s neck and mumbling something about competence and Wellington boots, and how very sexy it was indeed, it didn’t resemble any of the tangled knots of hope and fear and the comfort of standing flat on a slowly crumbling cliff that Emily tried to crush inside of her.  When she was drunk it settled though, and she could pull Emma into her lap, and be happy and almost crushed until she fell asleep.

 

It wasn't until Emma finally winced and said, ‘do you want to come to dinner tonight?” Monday night, and she accepted, getting out at the door and letting the valet take her car, that she suddenly thought she might hardly know Emma at all.  It was probably torture, she was sure, this awful dinner with these awful people.  Only the boy gave her an honest smile, and a bit of a wink that suggested Emma’s pretence of just friends (with respectable relations) was wasted on him. 

 

He gave her a half hug after they had thankfully been set free and shook his head.  “And a lovely welcome wagon my family always brings,” he said, laughing.  “I already like you, you know.  Emma’s prettier when she smiles, and she smiles when she’s talking about you.”

 

“You mean laughing at me,” Emily replied, and Christian grinned.

 

“That too.”

 

He slipped away and Emma stumbled of the dining room.  The look on her face was like a crack in an egg, irreparable, and letting everything sealed away inside slip out.  And she looked up, and met Emily’s eyes, and they were clear and blue and pleading, like a drowning person throwing a rope and begging for rescue, and Emily snagged the end and reeled her in, and kissed her, and Emma dragged her into a closet, and they had hot quick sex half-way to Narnia.

 

Emma fell asleep while Emily drove home, and she shifted gears very carefully to not disturb the sleeper on her shoulder.

 

She thought musingly, that maybe all of this was like a tangled knot of upset stomach for her, with a bit of walking the plank thrown in, but for Emma it was like having pulled tight inside her shell and finding that something had gotten inside.  It dug into her soft flesh, hundreds of tiny blades.  And she bled.  But anyone who could take a beating like her wasn’t going to pull away from something as mild (and incontrovertibly tragic) as the endless torture of love.

 

x          x            x

 

It wasn’t supposed to work.  It wasn’t supposed to be easy or fun.  Emily had known it would end from the start, because eventually Emma would get bored, and be curious about something or someone else, and she wasn’t going to fight against that.  She had her own goals and her own needs, and she knew she would cry and feel like shit, and it was dangerous to get comfortable.  But she couldn’t help it getting easier to read Emma, to make her laugh, protect her when she needed protection, and let her fight her own battles when she needed that, and be there when she came home on Monday nights looking like a soldier just airlifted out of a war.

 

And still, every once in a while she would look around, and be afraid, because she could always see Emma, or smell her, or groan at her things strewn around her apartment, and she didn’t know what it would be like to not have that anymore, and she suddenly doubted she could handle having her gone.

 

She would still see JJ on occasion, and watch her watch them, scoffing at first, and then just watching, confused and almost shocked, when after a month or more Emma was still snaking her arms around Emily’s neck in the hallway and whispering clearly dirty things in her ear.  She watched at parties, waiting for something to happen, and it _didn’t_.  Emily couldn’t believe the evidence of JJ’s eyes, because the shock was going away, as if she had started to forget that they were ever anything but together.

 

And then Emma came back from Monday night family dinner with a look on her face like she had decided to nuke the city.  She had a bloody nose, and there was swelling around her eye that looked like it would turn black soon, and she jerked away when Emily tried to touch her.

 

“I’m leaving,” she said.  “I told my father that I wouldn’t move back into the house, I wouldn’t follow his stupid rules, and I wouldn’t let him punish me for sleeping with you.”  She looked down.  “I’m going to go to Boston.  I need to work, or something.  He’s cut me off.”  She shuddered slightly.  “I was only hoping to hold it off until next year, until I could escape to college like Christian did.”

 

Emily couldn’t think of a thing to say.

 

Emma looked up, eyes unexpectedly soft.  “I’m sorry.  I just wish I could have had a little more time with you.”

 

And this was the end she had expected and feared for so long.  Emma smiled, it was weak, a little sad, and she started to turn away, and there was something utterly recognizable in her eyes and the set of her shoulders.  She had known it would end too.  She had been waiting, willing to take what she could, and happy to be free of one of her masters, but no one was ever completely free.

 

“No.”  Emily caught her wrist, and Emma spun, looking panicked, trying to pull away.  “You’re not going anywhere.”  Emma stilled in her grip.  “Not if you don’t want to go.”

 

“I won’t take your charity.  You saved me once.  I won’t let you do it again.”

 

And she had it backwards, of course, because she had demanded that Emily break out of all of the safe little shells she had made for herself.  She had stolen her secrets, opened her up and reminded her how to be touched, given her comfort, destroyed her self pity, and never, ever, judged her for her mistakes.

 

“Everyone deserves a second chance.”

 

“I _had_ that.”  It looked like she might cry.

 

“Give _me_ a second chance.”  Emily cupped her face.  “Let me prove it this time.  I don’t want you to go.”

 

And the tears in Emma’s eyes glittered before they spilled over and ran down her cheeks, and Emily leaned in and kissed her, like she had a thousand times, like she had even when she had hated this girl, had believed that her savage games and casual cruelty were something she could never condone, believed that she was nothing she could ever want.

 

Emma kissed her back, fiercely, as if she wanted to brand her mark onto Emily’s lips.  And they stumbled back, heat and possession, onto the bed.  And it had always been like this, Emily realized, lost in the scent of Emma’s skin and her taste, she had never been able to let her go.  Even when she was supposed to hate her, she had reached out and pulled this girl into her instead of pushing her away, and Emma had never, ever resisted her.  And perhaps that meant more than she had ever let herself believe it did.

 

“Don’t go.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“I promise.  I won’t ever go.”

 

And Emily finally let herself believe it.  She closed Emma tightly in her arms and released her fear.

 

#


End file.
